


Left In My Memories

by tommohoran223



Series: The Past is the Past, but the Future is Bright [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Brother-Sister Relationships, Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Father-Son Relationship, Flashbacks, Hurt Peter Parker, Memory Loss, No Spoilers, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is all grown up, Peter Parker is good with kids, Protective Pepper Potts, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:42:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18562303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommohoran223/pseuds/tommohoran223
Summary: She shifts from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, both of her hands holding onto purple backpack straps.“Um… can I help you?” Peter says, not unkindly, and looks up for a second to make sure there wasn’t anyone else with her. Nope, it was just her. He pulls the door open wider.“Uh, yeah, um…” the girl stutters before taking a deep breath. “My name is Morgan, and I think you’re my brother.”-Or where Peter's past catches up to him in the form of an eleven-year-old girl.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> So I got this idea last night and stayed up til like 3 am writing it. If it sounds like an incoherent ramble that's because it is. LOL.

It’s exactly eleven pm on the dot when Peter Parker gets back to his house in Queens, his entire body aching as it usually does when he goes on patrol.

He’s since swapped his suit for normal clothes, his backpack slung over one shoulder as he struggles to pull his keys out of his pocket. He’s soaked, as the rain had picked up in the last fifteen minutes. When he finally does, he spends another two minutes trying to jam each key on the keyring into the doorknob, each attempt unsuccessful as the last. Just when he’s sure he has it, the door unlocks from the inside, and MJ pulls it open, an amused smirk on her face.

“You were taking too long,” MJ says, pulling him inside by the arm. She’s in her pajamas already, her curly hair tied up into a bun.

“Babe, we’ve talked about this,” Peter sighs, pushing the door closed and locking it. MJ throws him a towel, and he uses it to dry his hair and face. “I don’t like you opening the door this late at night. It’s too risky.”

“So what, you don’t think I’m capable of fending for myself?” MJ crosses her arms, eyebrow cocked, but Peter knows she’s not angry.

“Nope, that’s not what I said,” Peter says, setting his backpack down onto the ground. “Trust me, if a robber or murderer came by while you were here holding down the fort, I’d fear for their life. But robbers and murderers aren’t what I’m worried about.”

“I know,” MJ gives in, uncrossing her arms and letting them fall by her sides. Peter takes one of her hands in his own, pulling her close.

Peter knows that it’s hard for her. Him being Spider-man leads to a very risky lifestyle, and although he does his best to keep his family off the record, he’s always aware that there’s a chance something bad can happen.

“I just don’t know what I would do if something happened to you or the kids,” Peter admits, but he knows the confession doesn’t surprise MJ in the slightest. That’s the thing Peter loves most about their marriage—there are no secrets, no held back feelings, no lies. Just the truth.

It feels good to not have to lie anymore to at least one person. He’s had to keep secrets and lies his entire life to the point where he had started to question what about himself was real or not.  
Now he knows.

“You’d probably starve to death,” MJ says matter-of-factly, and suddenly the mood is immediately lightened. “And you’d probably never have clean clothes.”

“All the more reason to keep you safe,” Peter chuckles, and his heart swells with unconditional love for his wife. He really wouldn’t make it without her. “Are the kids in bed?”

“They’d better be,” MJ glances towards the top of the stairs. “I told Ben that if he gets out of bed _one more time_ , I’m going to cancel his birthday party at the zoo next week.”

They gravitate towards their bedroom, Peter ready to get off of his feet and into bed.

“If I’m being honest with you,” MJ continues, “I’m kind of hoping he does. I really don’t see the point of going to the zoo—you see the same thing every time and half of the animals you can’t even see.”

“Luckily, he’s three,” Peter reminds her with a small smile. “He’s just going to run around, eat ice cream, and yell at the cages no matter if there’s anything in it or not.”

“Remind me why we had kids?”

Peter opens his mouth to answer, but before he can, the doorbell rings. They both frown, glancing from each other to in the direction of the front door.

“Who the hell could that be?” Peter keeps his voice low, just in case they can somehow hear him from all the way from the back of the house. The thunder booms and the rain starts to pour down even harder onto the roof.

“Maybe you should go look,” MJ suggests, matching his tone. “I’ll go grab the baseball bat from the garage.”

Peter nods and walks to the front door, but he’s puzzled when he can’t see anyone on the porch while looking through the peephole. He slowly unlocks the door and opens it cautiously, making sure to only open it a crack. His gaze shifts downward, and he’s startled at the sight in front of him.

Standing on his front porch is a young girl not a day over eleven. She’s peering up at him with deep brown eyes, her hair and clothes soaked to the bone. Her long brown hair is tucked behind her ears, and Peter swears she looks familiar, even though he’s pretty sure he’s never met this girl in his life. She shifts from one foot to the other, obviously nervous, both of her hands holding onto purple backpack straps.

“Um… can I help you?” Peter says, not unkindly, and looks up for a second to make sure there wasn’t anyone else with her. Nope, it was just her. He pulls the door open wider.

“Uh, yeah, um…” the girl stutters before taking a deep breath. “My name is Morgan, and I think you’re my brother.”

Peter just stares at her, unable to process what she had just said.

“What?”

“I think you’re my brother. Legally, that is—I don’t think we’re actually related by blood.”

The realization hits Peter’s brain, and suddenly he thinks he understands, but he has to be sure.

“What’s your full name?” Peter asks her, even though he knows. He just has to hear her say it.

“Morgan Stark,” Morgan answers. “My mom and dad are—”

“Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, I know,” Peter finishes for her. He knows why she’s familiar now; Morgan was spotted all of the time with her parents in public, and recently she’d even gone to a few Stark Industries charity events. He reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. What’s the protocol for this kind of situation? Do her parents even know she’s here?

Peter takes a wild guess at that last one and assumes, no, her parents don’t know she’s here.

“Peter? Who’s at the door?” Peter looks over his shoulder at MJ, who has their son's Paw Patrol baseball bat gripped in her hands, ready to swing and knock someone straight back onto their ass.

God, he loves her.

But he can’t have her be hitting Tony Stark’s daughter with a baseball bat, so he holds out a hand in a calming manner.

“It’s uh,” Peter glances back at Morgan, who is now hugging her arms around her middle and shivering. “It’s Morgan Stark.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke, Parker?”

“Surprisingly, it is not,” Peter sighs. What even is his life? Then, to Morgan, he says, “Why don’t you come inside and get warmed up? We can talk over hot chocolate.”

Morgan nods and steps inside. Ten minutes later, Peter is sitting down at the kitchen table across from the girl, a mug of hot chocolate in front of both of them. MJ had gone to bed a few minutes ago, kissing Peter goodnight on the cheek before going into the bedroom and closing the door behind herself gently.

Now it’s just him and Morgan. Peter can tell that the kid has a lot to say, but she’s waiting for him to prompt her. He does so after taking a sip of his warm drink and leaning back in his chair.

“So, how did you find me?”

“It was by accident, really,” Morgan starts, pushing her hair back behind her ear. Her eyes are downcast onto the table. “I hacked into my dad’s files the other day—”

 _As kids do_ , Peter thinks to himself amusedly, but it’s not like Peter’s shocked or anything. If the point hasn't already been made, this is the child of Tony Stark.

“—And really deep down, I found a joint custody agreement form that he had signed, like, a long time ago.”

She stops, looking up at him, and suddenly Peter can’t find it in himself to meet her eyes.

“It had your name on it,” Morgan states the obvious. “And I was—curious why I’d never heard anybody talk about you ever. So I asked my mom, but she got really weird about it and told me to forget about it and not bring it up again. Especially to my dad.”

“So you decided to take the subway to Queens at eleven o’clock at night to find me and ask me about it?” Peter looks back at her and raises an eyebrow, and Morgan shrinks into the chair.

“It’s the only time I could get away with no one noticing. They think I’m in my room asleep.”

Peter takes a moment to study her and decides that he kind of likes the girl. She’s as persistent as her father, that’s for damn sure. Furthermore, Peter can see _himself_ doing the exact same thing at her age—if he had wanted answers as a kid, he went and got said answers, no matter the cost.

That was how the whole Vulture thing happened.

God, that was so long ago.

“Why is this so important to you?” Peter asks. Morgan seems to shy at the question, her little pale face starting to take color. “Why go through all the trouble to find me?”

“I’m an only child,” Morgan explains, looking down at her lap. “But I’ve always wanted a brother or sister. So when I found out that maybe—maybe I could have a cool older brother out there…” she pauses, and takes a deep breath, looking up at him so that their eyes meet. “I wanted to know at least who he was, and why he wasn’t in my life."

Peter takes a shaky breath, carding a hand through his messy, half dry hair. He wonders, for a moment, what he should tell her. How he should tell her. Because he believes that the girl deserves answers—God knows she worked hard enough for them—but honestly, he doesn’t even know where to begin.

But then, he looks at her and finds that her wide, hopeful brown eyes are trained on him, and he realizes that when he was her age, he would have wanted the truth, no matter what it was. In some cases, like now, secrets are no good.

“I used to be really close with Mr. Stark—your dad,” Peter begins, setting his hand back down onto the table. “I was an intern for Stark Industries, and he was my mentor. Well, we got so close that he and my Aunt May decided that they would share custody of me since she had to work a lot and he was practically a father to me in every way except legally.”

“So what happened?”

“Hydra happened.”

* * *

 

It was supposed to be an easy mission.

A “get in, get out” situation. Peter knew that Tony would have never allowed him to come on a mission that was too dangerous for a seventeen-year-old, so when his mentor called him asking for his assistance with flushing out a Hydra base, he had agreed without any hesitation. The base was on the outskirts of the New York, hidden in plain sight, but with Tony’s tech, it was a piece of cake to find.

The mission started out like any other. They’d used the element of surprise as long as they could, quietly taking out soldier after soldier—Iron Man blasting them and Spider-man webbing them up. Then, alarms were sounded, and an influx of Hydra agents was suddenly swarming them to the point where Peter couldn’t see Iron Man anymore—it was just him, alone with a bunch of guys dressed from head to toe in all black.

Peter was shooting webs left and right while at the same time blocking kicks and punches and dodging bullets that were coming his way. One agent caught him off guard, pointing a gun at Peter’s face, but he managed to web the guy to a wall, taking the gun and emptying it of its bullets.

He wished he had been able to avoid the bullet the agent had shot straight at his stomach before he’d taken care of the situation.

Peter didn’t even hear the gunshot, and it took him a minute to feel it too. But once he does feel it, the pain made him want to double over.

“Hey, uh, Mr. Stark? I think I’m hit,” Peter said into the comm.

“Hit with what?” Peter couldn’t detect Tony’s tone, but he assumed his mentor was concerned. He always was. “A bullet?”

“Yeah,” Peter confirmed, glancing down to see his hand soaked with blood.

“Okay, I’m coming to you,” Tony announced. “Stay put.”

The Hydra agents had disappeared, and Peter briefly wondered if that was a bad thing. Probably.

Peter’s Spidey sense started to flare up, and just as Iron Man came into view, Peter was suddenly grabbed from behind. Something metal was pressed to his head, and it took him a moment to realize that it was a gun, and _oh God he’s being held at gunpoint._

“Freeze, or the Spider gets it,” a voice said, and Iron Man stopped in his tracks, holding his metal hands up into the air in surrender.

“Okay, I’m freezing, no problem,” Tony’s robotic voice said cautiously. “Just, put the gun down, alright? We’ll cooperate, but don’t hurt him.”

“Get out of the suit.”

The Iron Man suit folded up back into Tony’s watch, leaving the man vulnerable in his normal dress suit.

“Get on the ground and put your hands behind your head, Stark,” the Hydra agent ordered. Tony complied, putting both hands behind head and kneeling down onto the ground. Peter felt himself getting drowsy, probably from the blood loss, and his vision started to go black around the edges.

“Cuff him,” the Hydra agent barked, and two other agents quickly put Tony in handcuffs, being more aggressive than Peter liked. “Now put them away. It looks like we have a new participant for Project X.”

Project X? Peter thought the name sounded stupid, but even if he had wanted to voice that opinion, he certainly didn’t have the energy for it. He didn’t have the energy for much of anything, and the Hydra agents had to practically drag him to a small dark cell that was located beneath the base. They threw both he and Tony into a cell, and the moment Peter’s body crumpled to the hard concrete ground everything went dark.

“Kid?”

“Pete? Can you hear me?”

“ _Peter!_ You need to wake up, buddy.”

It took Peter a moment to register that someone was calling his name. Their voice was getting louder and louder, and he found it annoying because he just wanted to sleep, damn it. But the voice persisted, so he forced himself to open his eyes if only to tell whoever was yelling to shut up.

His mask was off. He was laying on his back, so the first thing he noticed was the damp ceiling above them that was dripping with condensation. The second thing he noticed was Tony kneeling next to him, the man not bothering to hide his worry.

“You with me, kid?” Tony sounded… nervous. It was so unlike his mentor; usually, he was confident, or at least he pretended to be.

Peter nodded slowly.

“Good,” Tony sighed, falling back into a sitting position and running a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how long you were out, but it felt like a while.”

“What happened?” Peter managed, his voice hardly a whisper.

“We got captured by Hydra. Oh, and you were shot in the stomach.”

That would explain why Tony was nervous.

“I got the bullet out, and your healing is taking care of the rest,” Tony finished. “Now I’m just hoping Rhodey can find us in time. How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Peter admitted. “And in a little bit of pain, but I can deal.”

“...Okay. Good,” Peter knew that if these were different circumstances, Tony wouldn’t even come close to being able to accept that as an answer, but they didn’t have many options—so Tony would just have to settle with an ‘okay’.

“Stark, it’s so great of you to join us,” a rough voice said, and Peter and Tony both looked over to see a man in a white lab coat approaching their cell. “I’ll admit when I requested test subjects for my new experiment, I wasn’t expecting someone as valuable as you.”

Tony didn’t say anything, just glared at the man, and for the hundredth time in his life, Peter thought about how much admiration he had for his mentor.

“I’ve been working on Project X for quite some time, and now I finally get to execute it,” the man said, and Peter wanted to groan because he was way too tired for another villainous diabolical plan speech. “Project X deals with the brain, or more specifically, the hippocampus. I wanted to be able to not only wipe out memories altogether but to pick and choose what memories get eliminated.”

Well, now Peter was just confused, and judging from the look on his face, so was Tony.

Suddenly, three Hydra agents entered the cell and grabbed Tony, two handcuffing him and forcing him to stand up, while one held a gun towards Peter.

“I hope you’ve said all of your ‘I love you’s, Stark,” the man in the white lab coat said. “Because if everything goes according to plan, the person who means most to you will be eradicated from your memories forever.”

Peter’s stomach dropped, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t his bullet wound acting up. Miss. Potts. If the man managed to do what he said, Tony would forget about Miss. Potts forever. He looked up at Tony and was startled by the intense and wild fear built up in his mentor’s expression.

“You—you asshole, that’s not even possible—” Tony snarled as the agents shoved him out of the cell and down the hall. “Don’t you even _dare_ mess with my head or I swear to _God_ —”

And just like that, a door slammed shut, and Peter was left alone in a dark holding cell.

Time passed; Peter wasn’t sure how much exactly—he had no way to tell. He was now sitting against the wall, his stomach wound almost completely healed.

Would Tony never remember Miss. Potts again? The thought made him sick. The couple was engaged and _finally happy_. Tony had even let slip a few weeks ago that the two were thinking about having a baby.

No one deserved each other more than them, and Peter couldn’t believe that one stupid mission would jeopardize all of that.

More time passed until the door swung back open and Tony was thrown back into their cell. Once the agents were gone, Peter practically launched himself to his mentor’s side, only to realize that the man was completely unconscious.

“Mr. Stark? Mr. Stark, wake up!”

Peter kept yelling, hoping that maybe his mentor would wake up and laugh in the scientist man’s face because it didn’t work. It didn't work, right?

Tony opened his eyes, and Peter sighed with relief at first, but dread was still pooling at the bottom of his stomach.

“Mr. Stark? You remember Miss. Potts, right? Your fiancee?”

“Pepper? Yeah, I remember her,” Tony sat up slowly, confusion on his face.

Peter deflated with relief.

“Oh, thank God, I knew it was a load of horseshit—”

Peter stopped when he realized that Tony’s expression hadn’t changed, and the dread came back.

“Uh, kid? Who are you?”

* * *

 

Morgan looks like she doesn’t even believe him at first.

“He just… forgot about you?”

“Yeah,” Peter nods, running his finger along the rim of his mug. “Dr. Banner looked into the experiment later; the science was there.”

“That… that sucks,” Morgan says, obviously at a loss for words. “Whatever I was imagining… it wasn’t _that_. I just figured you and my dad just had a big fight and never saw each other again.”

“Nope. Honestly, I wish that was the case,” Peter glances over at the clock and does a double take when he reads twelve fifteen on the clock. “Jesus, kid, it’s getting really late. How about I drive you home?”

“What? That’s it?”

“Well… yeah… “ Peter frowns at the girl. “There’s not really much more to it.”

“You guys didn’t even try to get his memories back? You just… let him forget?” Morgan seems appalled, so Peter decides to backtrack.

“Of course we tried to get them back,” Peter says. “We tried everything we could think of. But sometimes… sometimes, things are better left unfixed.”

* * *

 

War Machine saved them an hour later.

It wouldn’t have mattered if it had been an hour or a month or a year, because the damage had already been done.

War Machine burst into their cell, with the Black Widow right behind him, and while Rhodey makes a beeline for Tony, Natasha Romanoff knelt down in front of Peter, who was now on the opposite side of the cell than Tony.

“Are you alright, malen'kiy pauk?” Natasha asked him quietly, looking Peter up and down to try and find injuries. Peter gave a small nod of his head, but he didn’t think he was very convincing.

Rhodey was helping Tony up, and Tony glanced over at Peter.

“Hey, I don’t know who that kid is, but get S.H.I.E.L.D. to find his parents, okay?”

Peter saw Rhodey stumble, probably in shock, but to his credit, he kept moving.

“Peter, what happened?” Natasha’s face was now very serious. “What did he mean by that?”

“There was a scientist Hydra guy… he… he did an experiment on Mr. Stark—” Peter hated that he was starting to cry in front of the Black Widow, but she didn’t seem phased by his tears. “Mr. Stark doesn’t remember me…”

“We need to find the experiment files,” Natasha said, standing back up. “Barton, can you come get the kid?”

Hawkeye showed up a few minutes later, and the Black Widow disappeared, leaving Clint to help Peter to the quinjet.

“It’s going to be okay, Peter,” Clint tried to comfort Peter, but his words were lost on the teenager. “We’re going to figure this out.”

To all of their credit, they tried, and Peter had nothing but appreciation for everyone who tried to fix what had been done. Hawkeye and the Black Widow went on countless missions, trying to find the guy responsible. Each time they came back empty-handed, they always worked hard to find a new lead.

Doctor Banner spent hours down in the labs, often with Peter, researching the brain and how it worked. In fact, they spent so much time together that they started using the cover story that Peter was Dr. Banner’s intern instead because Tony had begun to get curious why a teenager was in Dr. Banner’s lab all the time.

No matter how hard anyone worked, nothing was found.

Months passed. Peter gave up a fraction of hope every day, until one day, he found that he’d ran out.

Doctor Banner had told him that he knew a man who had used to be a neurosurgeon, and he’d been in contact with him.

“I invited him over later today so we can get his opinion,” Dr. Banner had told Peter earlier that day. Peter had only nodded in agreement. Now, he was on his way to the conference room where they were all meeting with Stephen Strange, a neurosurgeon who also dealt with his fair share of superhero stuff.

On his way to the conference room, Peter sees Tony out of the corner of his eye. Pepper was behind him, her stomach swollen; he’d heard that her due date was only in a few months.

Peter was just glad they got to have their happily ever after.

Pepper saw him as he was walking past towards the elevator, and her eyes turned sad. She looked like she wanted to call out to him, but Peter just gave her a small smile before getting on the elevator and pressing a button. The elevator let him out in a few moments, and he entered the conference room.

Rhodey, Dr. Banner, Clint, and Natasha were all sitting around the table. A man unfamiliar to Peter is standing up, his hands behind his back, and Peter assumed that was Dr. Strange.

There were a lot of medical terms thrown around, terms that Peter didn’t have the willpower to even try and understand. All he could think about was the smile that was always on Tony’s face these days.

Before that fateful day, Peter had never seen Tony smile quite that much.

“Peter? Peter, are you listening?” Dr. Banner nudged him back to reality. Peter looked up to see Dr. Strange’s wise gaze searching his face.

“You can spend forever trying to find a cure,” Dr. Strange said. “But your best bet is getting him to remember on his own. Whatever they did to him created a blockage—but if his memory is jostled enough that blockage can be cleared.”

“So basically, if Peter spends enough time with him, Tony might be able to get his memories back?” Natasha said, arms flat on the table. She sounded doubtful.

“Theoretically,” Dr. Strange said, and then he sighed. “With this amount of blockage, however, it could take a long time. And of course, there is the chance they’ll never come back.”

"Peter,” Rhodey's said from the other end of the table. “You’re being awfully quiet.”

“Yeah, well…” Peter trailed off, and he knew that what he was about to say would cause a lot of protests. He sat up straight in his chair, clearing his throat nervously. “Maybe… maybe it’s just best if we leave it alone.”

Silence. And then,

“What?” Clint was on the edge of his seat. Natasha looked like she’d seen this coming all along.

“I’m just saying that…” Peter swallowed, trying to stop the tears from coming. He was successful for the moment. “Maybe it’s better that we just… let him forget.”

“Peter, you know Tony would smack you into tomorrow if he heard you say that,” Dr. Banner said, and Peter knew that.

But his Tony was gone, and there was no getting him back.

“I just, I see how happy he is these days without—without being responsible for me all the time.”

“ _Peter_ ,” Rhodey said sharply, but Peter just shook his head. He stands up from his chair.

“Is it so wrong of me to want to give him the chance to be able to focus on his own family? Like, he has his baby on the way, and he’s planning on retiring soon, and I just—” Peter paused. He looked out the glass window and saw Tony was approaching, this time without Pepper. “I think it’s for the best. For everyone.”

Tony opened the conference room doors and frowned at the sullen mood.

“Okay, who died?” Tony asked, half joking. No one said a word. Tony noticed Peter standing in the middle of the room and said, “Hey you’re Bruce’s intern, right?”

“Right,” Peter nodded. He looked around the room. “I’m—I’m going to go. Seriously, thanks for everyone's help. I appreciate it.”

With that, Peter left the conference room, doing his best to avoid looking at his former mentor. Rhodey followed him out, managing to keep up with Peter’s quick pace even with his awkward metal legs.

“Peter. Kid,” Rhodey called out. Peter stopped in his tracks, turning around to look him in the eyes. Rhodey paused for a moment, searching for the right words to say. “You just need to know that... anyone who’s close to Tony knows that you were his family. You still are. He just doesn’t remember right now.”

When Peter said nothing, he continued.

“You said that Hydra wiped out the person who meant most to him. Peter, you were the most important person in his life, and I know you know that,” Rhodey said. “So when you’re ready to come back to him… he’ll be ready. He’ll always be ready.”

“Thanks, Colonel,” Peter gave a shaky smile, the tears that he’d previously pushed away threatening to spill.

With one last nod, Peter turned around and left the Avengers compound, and later, he fell into Aunt May’s arms, wondering why his damn Parker luck never gave him a fucking break.

* * *

 

Peter leaves a note for MJ in the kitchen in case she wakes up and he’s still gone. Then, he and Morgan get into his car, on their way to where Tony now lives with his family. The girl seems significantly more satisfied than she’d been earlier, and Peter’s glad she’s gotten all the answers she needed. Her backpack is in her lap and she’s twiddling with the straps.

“Just so you know?” Morgan starts, and Peter glances over at her before focusing back on the road. The rain had slowed down to the point where it’s almost gone. “I think your reason for leaving was stupid.”

“Noted,” Peter snorts. God, she’s so much like Tony it’s not even funny.

“I, uh, I didn’t mean that in a mean way,” Morgan quickly backpedals. “I just think that it would have been worth a shot to at least try. I mean… do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you’d stayed?”

Peter presses on the brake when the light ahead of him turns red. His hands shift on the steering wheel.

“All the time, kid,” Peter admits, looking out the window. More and more trees are starting to appear. Tony made a good choice, Peter thinks, moving his family out here. It must be nice and quiet for them.

They fall into silence. Peter keeps driving and is starting to consider turning on the radio when Morgan speaks up again.

“You should come back.”

She says it kind of quietly, and Peter might not have heard it if he didn’t have enhanced hearing.

“What?”

“I said, you should come back. Maybe you can still make him remember you,” Morgan tries to convince him, and for a fraction of a second, Peter really, really wants to.

But then reality sets in.

“I think it’s a little too late,” Peter says. _Twelve years too late._

“It’s never too late until you’re dead,” Morgan declares. Peter laughs.

“That’s true,” Peter agrees, “But it’s just all really complicated.”

“I know,” Morgan nods. She’s looking straight ahead at the road, pointing him in the direction of her house. “I wish it wasn’t. You seem cool.”

Peter pauses, glancing at her again, and notices that she seems like she’s running out of hope.

Just like he had all those years ago.

“Look, I don’t know you very well, but I…” Peter bites the inside of his lip. “I think you would have been a great little sister. And I’m—well, I’m really glad you found me. Maybe a little late at night for my taste, but… I’m glad I got to meet you.”

They pull up to the Stark mansion, and Peter can’t help but notice how big it is. It had to have at least four stories. Not that he’s too surprised.

“I thought you said earlier you guys live in a small house?”

“Size is all relative,” Morgan says. "And honestly, did you expect anything less from my dad?" Peter just shakes his head, a smile growing on his face because no, he didn't. He parks his car out in front of the house. Before he gets out, however, he takes a receipt and writes his email address down on the back of it. He hands it to Morgan, who just stares at it.

“Just email me if you ever need anything, okay?” Morgan nods, stuffing the paper into her backpack. “And my door is always open.”

“Thanks. That means a lot,” she smiles at him. Then, she looks at the house and horror spreads across her features. “Oh no. The lights are on. They must know I’m gone. Dude, Mom’s gonna _kill me_.”

“Well, it was _your_ poor decision to sneak out of the house this late at night,” Peter reminds her. He opens his door and gets out of the car. Morgan follows suit, her backpack slung across one shoulder. “C’mon, kid, the sooner you get inside, the shorter your sentence will be. Besides, I’m sure Friday already told them that we’re here.”

Morgan climbs up the steps to the front double doors, Peter following from behind. She opens the door and they’re immediately met with an angry Happy Hogan, who looks actually sixty percent angry and forty percent worried. He’s in his pajamas, slippers on his feet and a nightcap on his head.

“Young lady, do you know what time it is?” Happy fumes when he sees Morgan. “You know what, I’ll answer that for you: it’s _one forty-five in the morning.”_

He’s about to say something else, but then he sees Peter and whatever he was going to say dies on his tongue.

“Pete?”

Peter thinks that this is the first time Happy’s ever been not annoyed at his presence, but he has to guess that that’s what time does to people.

“Hey, Happy,” Peter greets the man. “She was with me—I know that doesn’t make things better, but at least she wasn’t wandering the streets aimlessly.”

“Morgan? Morgan, where on Earth have you been?” Pepper Potts-Stark comes down the staircase, wrapped in a robe. “You just about had your father dusting off his Iron Man suits to come and find you. Do you know what time it is? What were you—Peter?”

Pepper freezes when she sees him, and Peter can’t help but notice that she hasn’t aged a day since the last time he’d seen her.

“Hi, Mrs. Potts, I was just telling Happy that she came to find—” Peter is cut off by Pepper grabbing him and pulling him in for a hug, holding onto him so tightly that Peter wonders if he’ll ever be able to breathe again.

“Peter, I’ve missed you so much,” Pepper whispers over his shoulder. Her touch is firm but gentle, and suddenly Peter feels like he's fifteen again instead of twenty-eight—a mere child in her protective grasp.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Peter says, returning the hug.

After a minute, Pepper pulls away, and Peter sees her quickly wipe a tear from her eye. Then, she turns back to her daughter.

“Morgan, go upstairs to bed. Your father and I will discuss your punishment and we’ll all have a chat in the morning,” Pepper orders, and Peter has to work hard to suppress his laughter when he sees Morgan visibly gulp. “But first, say thank you to Peter for driving you home.”

“Thanks for driving me home,” Morgan spares him a smile, although Peter knows she’s probably thinking about all the different ways she could be punished come tomorrow. It'll be a long night for her, that's for sure.

“It was no problem at all,” Peter waves his hand in the air. Morgan disappears up the stairs, leaving Peter with Pepper and Happy.

“So… how’ve you been, kid?” Happy tries to act nonchalant, but Peter can see right through the act.

He's missed me, Peter realizes.

“I’ve been good,” Peter answers, suddenly feeling incredibly awkward. “I’m married with two kids, and I have a business that’s taking off.”

“Still Spider-manning?”

“Always, Happy,” Peter smiles. “Who else will help out the little guy?”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, kid,” Happy says, and Peter swears his tone is quite fond.

“Well, I’m so sorry she bothered you so late,” Pepper sighs, glancing up towards where Morgan had disappeared. “I don’t know what’s gotten into her these days.”

Peter remembers what it’s like to be her age. It’s the age where you’re old enough to understand that life isn’t always sunshine and rainbows, but you're too young for the adults around you to take you seriously. It’s a hard age, especially for someone like Morgan, who is growing up in the limelight. Peter was just a normal orphan boy from Queens.

“She just wanted the truth,” Peter says. “So she went and found it.”

Pepper gives him a look, a deep, intense look, and he knows that she’s studying him, looking him over.

“I’m glad she brought you back,” Pepper’s voice is quiet, but she manages a smile. “It never was the same without you, Peter.”

Before Peter can respond, a familiar voice comes from the room over.

“Hey, Friday said Morgan’s back home?” Tony Stark enters the room, in his pajamas like everyone else. His eyes fall on Peter, and a grin spreads onto his face. “Did you bring her back home? Thank you so much. That girl is a handful, but let me tell you, she’s going somewhere.”

Tony holds out his hand for a shake, and Peter hesitates for a moment before taking it. His eyes meet Tony’s, and something flashes across the older man’s face.

“Say, have we met before? Because you look familiar…”

“I used to be, um, Bruce Banner’s intern a long time ago,” Peter says, and as he does he makes a mental note to check up on the doctor sometime soon.

“Yeah, that must be it…” Tony says, but he seems unsure. Peter holds his gaze for a moment longer before letting go of the mechanic's hand, taking a step back.

“I’d better get home,” Peter says, gravitating towards the door.

“Of course,” Pepper says. “Have a safe drive home, and thank you again.”

Peter nods his head, looking into his former mentor’s eyes one last time before walking out the door into the rainy night. As he drives back home, he notices that a piece of paper has been left in the passenger seat. He reaches over when it’s a red light, and finds that it’s an address—an address to the Stark mansion, along with an email address. The note is signed 'M.S.'

Something tells Peter that he’ll be seeing more of the Stark family in the near future.

After all, he _is_ apart of it.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So you’ll do it? You’ll help me get my dad to remember you?” Morgan’s looks like she’s about to explode with happiness. 
> 
> “I’ll do my best, kid,” Peter tells her, “but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. This won’t be easy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!
> 
> First of all, can I just say how freaking awesome you guys are? I was blown away by the response the first part got, and reading your guys’ comments made my week! Because of popular demand, I’ve decided to turn this into a three part fic, so that way you guys can get the full story—past and present. I really hope these next two parts live up to your expectations.
> 
> Also, I feel like I need to mention that this was written pre-endgame, so there are no spoilers in this fic. That being said, if you haven’t seen it, go see it, because it’s honestly a cinematic masterpiece. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy part two, and part three will be up as soon as possible :)

Two weeks after getting rescued, Peter was about to lose his ever-loving mind.

  
He was in his room at Aunt May’s apartment, seated at his desk. The only light in the room was coming from the tiny lamp sat on the corner of his desk, washing over the papers that were stacked in front of him, and bleeding onto the nearby floor and walls. The artificial glow spread just far enough to illuminate a sea of crumpled up pieces of paper surrounding him, littered on the floor as the wastebasket had become full a long time ago, overflowing with leads and ideas that had gotten him absolutely nowhere.

  
Currently, he was pouring over a file that Natasha had given him yesterday, scouring the contents for something, _anything_ that would help him in his quest to find the man in charge of Project X. Natasha had promised to give him everything she and Clint found, and so far she’d kept her word.

  
The file didn’t have much, but it had a name, so Peter sets the file aside and typed the name _Frederick Smith_ into the Google search bar. The first few items that came up were for the guy who owned FedEx, so he scrolled past all of that, but he came across a website that had to do with neurosurgery and the brain.

  
His heart started to race because _finally_ , he’d found something. He looked further into the guy who owned the website… only to find that the man in question had died three years ago.

  
Whatever hope he had been feeling plummeted. He felt a wave of anger come over him, and in his rage, he threw the file he had just been looking through, accidentally knocking over the desk lamp in the process. The lamp clattered to the floor, but the lightbulb managed to stay intact, so then all but Peter’s feet were submerged into the shadows of his room.

  
His door opened, and his Aunt May came into his room, taking a moment to look at her nephew, who had shifted so that he was sitting with his elbows on his thighs and his head in his hands.

  
“Peter, baby…” May whispered, moving deeper into his room to stand next to him. She tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but Peter just flinched away.

  
“I keep on running into dead ends, May,” Peter said, his voice shaking with anger and desperation. He lifted his head to look at May. His aunt’s eyes were filled with sadness and worry, dark bags hanging underneath, and Peter regretted waking her up. If anyone needed sleep, it was his Aunt May. “I just… how did he _disappear_ like that?”

  
“I know,” May leaned down and picked up the lamp, placing it back onto the table. “Baby, do you know what time it is?”

  
Peter glanced at his window, but there was really no way to tell the time because Queens was always hustling and bustling no matter the time.

  
New York never sleeps, so why should Peter?

  
“Uh, midnight?” Peter guessed, but the look on May’s face made it clear that he was wrong.

  
“Peter, it’s three thirty in the morning,” May took out her phone and showed him the screen for proof. He’d have to wake up for school in three and a half hours. All of a sudden, he could feel how tired he was: his eyes were drooping, his body was screaming at him to go to bed.

  
Peter refused to give in—not until he found the man who had torn one of the most important people in his life away from him.

  
“Peter, you can’t keep on doing this to yourself,” May said, and it occurred to him that while he lost Tony, his aunt was slowing losing Peter. He hated what he was doing to her because she’d already lost so much, but he couldn’t stop. Not now, not until there was nowhere else to look.

  
Not that there was an extensive list of places or people that Peter could look into. So far, all he had was nothing.

  
“I miss him,” Peter’s drew in a shaky breath, trying to contain the tears that were threatening to spill. May wrapped her arms around him, his cheek pressed to her stomach.

  
“Oh, honey, I know you do.”

  
“And the worst part is that he’s right in front of me all the time, but at the same time he’s _not_ ,” Peter continued, closing his eyes as May rubbed his back, his aunt making circular patterns with her fingers. A few tears slipped down his face, and he reached up clumsily to wipe them away.

  
May just stood there, hushing him while continuing to rub his back.

  
“Peter…” May sighed, and he recognized her tone. She was about to say something that she knew he wasn’t going to like. “Maybe it would be a good idea to stop going to the compound as much. That way you won’t—”

  
_That way you won’t seem him as much anymore._

  
The words were unspoken but clear as day. Peter shook his head, pulling away from May’s touch.

  
“I can’t just—I can’t just walk away,” Peter protested. “That would be letting the bad guys win, and I can’t let that happen. May, I can’t—I can’t do this without him, I can’t…”

  
“Yes, you can,” May asserted, taking Peter’s face in her hands. “Peter, you are so strong, stronger than you even know—you _will_ make it through this. You did it for your parents, and you did it for Ben. Now you’ll do it for Tony. Understood?”

  
“I don’t want to lose anyone else,” the dam broke, and suddenly Peter was a sobbing, blubbering mess. May instantly pulled him back into her arms, murmuring words of comfort into his ear. He’d been working so hard to find a way to bring Tony’s memories back that he’d forgotten the possibility that all of his efforts might be for nothing.

  
(Or maybe he hadn’t forgotten, but was actually electing to ignore that possibility, shoving the thought far away until it wasn’t a threat anymore.)

  
“How about you call it a night?” May suggested as his crying started to slow down. She led him over to his bunk bed where he collapsed, his body immediately letting go of the tension that he hadn’t been aware he’d been holding. “Get some sleep, okay, baby?”

  
Peter just nodded his head, his eyes already starting to close.

  
“May?”

  
“Yeah, Peter?”

  
“I love you.”

  
May, who had been approaching his bedroom door, turned around, and Peter wasn’t too tired to notice that his aunt’s eyes were shining with tears.

  
“I love you too, Peter. So much.”

  
May left his room, and for that night, Peter slept soundly. But the next night, and the night after that, he was in the exact position he was usually in, hunched over his desk trying to make sense of file after file he was given. It was a cycle: night after night, week after week.

  
But no matter how hard he searched and scoured, Peter found nothing.

  
Absolutely nothing.

* * *

 

There’s a little coffee shop taking up a sliver of real estate in upper Manhattan, sitting on the corner of 86th and First Avenue. Unfortunately, it’s not known for having great tasting goods, with the majority of reviewers complaining about how the coffee is too bitter and gross tasting, along with the baked goods always being slightly stale, but not stale enough to alert the attention of the FDA. This, in turn, results in the shop always being pretty much empty, but Peter finds that it meets their requirements.

  
Peter sits at a small round table towards the back of the shop, drumming his fingers against the surface. A small travel coffee cup is residing next to where his fingers are—Peter has gone ahead and bought a coffee to be polite because he doesn’t feel right about sitting here and not buying anything. After eyeing the coffee, Peter gives a shrug and takes a drink, only to choke on the taste.

  
Damn, this really is the worst coffee on the planet. Actually, probably in the realm. Asgard probably has better coffee—Peter makes a note to ask Thor about this the next time he sees him.

  
The chair opposite from him is pulled out, and Morgan Stark sits down in it, setting her purple backpack down onto the ground. She looks different than when Peter first met her—for starters, she’s completely dry. She seems to be carrying herself in a more confident manner, and her entire frame is radiating pure excitement. She folds her arms on the table, looking straight at Peter with a look that Peter can’t read because she has a huge pair of sunglasses on, covering half of her face.

  
“You’re now _inside_ the coffee shop, Morgan,” Peter chuckles. “You can lose the sunglasses.”

  
“Hush,” Morgan hisses, looking around to see if anyone heard him. “I can’t let the paparazzi find me here.” Peter rolls his eyes.

  
“Kid, there’s literally no one in here. There’s not even anyone manning the counter. I could go right up and take a piece of coffee cake if I wanted to,” he says. Man, this place is a dump. “Why did you pick this place? It’s pure crap.”

  
“I needed somewhere lowkey,” Morgan explains. “I can’t have anyone see me, or else the paps will find me and take pictures of me. Then, Friday will be alerted that there’s a picture of me in the news and she’ll tell my mom.”

  
“What’s so bad about that?”

  
“I’m still grounded.”

  
“Oh.” That’s a pretty fair reason, so Peter decides to let go of the fact that he’s sixty percent sure he saw a rat in the corner upon entering ten minutes ago. Seriously, Peter’s about to call the police on this place. “How long are you grounded for?”

  
“Two more weeks,” Morgan sighs, shaking her head. “I’ve been out of my mind with boredom this last week.”

  
Peter gets the feeling that Morgan hasn’t exactly learned her lesson. _Oh well_ , he thinks, _she’ll get it eventually. Hopefully._

  
“So. I want to thank you for agreeing to meet me here,” Morgan starts, trying to sound as grown up as possible. Peter has to suppress a laugh.

  
“Well it was hard to decline since you sent me thirteen emails in the span of five days,” Peter points out. Morgan’s cheeks turn a little pink, but she’s able to maintain her dignity.

  
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Peter,” Morgan defends herself. “I did what had to be done.”

  
“Whatever you say,” Peter says with a shake of his head. He takes a sip of his coffee subconsciously, forgetting the first time he’d done it, and gags. “That stuff is gross. How the hell—sorry—heck are these people still in business?”

  
“They have enough idiots like you buying their coffee,” Morgan shrugs.

  
“Okay, we’re getting off track here,” Peter quickly redirects, feeling slightly insulted. “What do you need to tell me that’s so important it couldn’t be said over email?”

  
Morgan pauses, eyeing him from behind her sunglasses.

  
“I get the feeling you already know what I’m going to say,” she predicts, and yeah, the kid is right—Peter knows exactly why they’re sitting in this shit coffee shop right now. He knew the moment she had sent him the first email five days ago.

  
“I do,” Peter confirms, leaning forward. He’s well aware that the kid is on a mission to get her father’s memories of Peter back. Morgan studies him, trying to get a read on what he’s thinking, but he knows that there’s no way in hell she’s successful. Maybe he used to be an open book when he was younger, but he’s changed since he was a teenager. He’s more closed off—after all, that’s how you survive this kind of world.

  
“So you’ll do it?”

  
“Morgan…” Peter sighs, looking at the bare coffee shop walls. “I’m just not sure it’s a good idea.”

  
Morgan nods, looking down at her lap, and Peter almost feels guilty enough to change his mind. Almost. She looks back up, taking her sunglasses off of her face, and Peter can’t help but be startled by the raw emotion in her eyes.

  
“You know, my dad knows that he’s missing something,” Morgan says quietly. “He doesn’t know what it is, but I can tell that he’s aware that something important in his life isn’t there anymore.”

  
Peter says nothing, biting the inside of his lip.

  
“I never noticed it until I found out you existed, but looking back, he’s been that way for as long as I can remember. It’s subtle, sure, but it’s still there,” Morgan continues. “You can’t get rid of a hole in your heart, even if you manage to forget who used to fill it.”

  
Peter can’t help but notice how damn insightful she is for an eleven-year-old. He guesses it has to do with her parentage. He presses his lips together, looking out the window to avoid her gaze.

  
He wants to say no. He really does, mostly because he’s afraid of what the outcome might be. What if it doesn’t work? It could very well open old wounds for Peter, wounds that had taken a long time to heal.

  
What if it did work? What happens then?

  
_It gives Tony and his family a sense of peace_ , a voice from the back of Peter’s brain says.

  
Peter knows that Tony would never forgive him for what he did—walking out of that compound, never looking back. He doesn’t _deserve_ Tony’s forgiveness. Peter has nightmares from time to time about this exact situation: Tony finally getting his memories of Peter back and hunting him down, and Peter worries that if he says yes, these nightmares have a chance of becoming reality.

  
Peter sighs, and is just about to say “no” when he sees Morgan’s pleading expression staring him down.

  
Maybe today is the day Peter stops being a coward and faces his demons.

  
“Fine. Yeah, okay,” Peter says.

  
“So you’ll do it? You’ll help me get my dad to remember you?” Morgan’s looks like she’s about to explode with happiness.

  
“I’ll do my best, kid,” Peter tells her, “but I don’t want you to get your hopes up. This won’t be easy.”

  
“I know that,” Morgan quickly nods, and Peter believes her. He wonders for a second how much time the girl had spent thinking this whole thing over. “So,” she slaps her hands down onto the surface of the table and the sound startles him a little. “Where do we start?”

  
Peter just stares. Well, that answers his question.

  
“What do you mean, _where do we start_? I thought you had a plan?”

  
“I never said I had a plan,” Morgan shakes her head. “Honestly, I didn’t even think you’d end up saying yes at all.” Peter groans—what has he gotten himself into? Morgan must realize that she’s about to lose him again because she’s clearly trying to scramble to quickly come up with their next order of action. “Okay, okay, okay. Maybe we should try to figure out what we’re dealing with. Didn’t you say the other day that you and Dr. Banner did research on the brain, like, a long time ago?”

  
“Yeah, we did,” Peter answers. “I have it all back at my place. Do you wanna go take a look at them? There might be some useful stuff.”

  
Morgan raises an eyebrow but whatever she’s thinking she doesn’t vocalize. Instead, she stands and grabs her backpack, swinging it over her shoulder.

  
“What?” Peter prompts her, and Morgan just shrugs.

  
“It’s just… for someone who was dead set on leaving everything in the past forever, it’s interesting that you saved a bunch of stuff.”

  
“I don’t like throwing stuff like that away,” Peter says, getting up out of his chair and walking towards the door. “You could call me a sentimental type.”

  
“Yeah,” Morgan shoves her sunglasses back onto her face, following Peter out of the dark coffee shop and into the New York sunlight. “I’m sure that’s the reason.”

  
“You think too much,” Peter tells her. He makes his way to his car and climbs into the driver's side, putting the key into the ignition and feeling the engine roar to life. Morgan gets into the passenger seat.

  
“There’s a lot to think about, Peter,” she protests.

  
Peter just shakes his head, starting the drive back to Queens wondering if maybe the kid is right—maybe it is telling that he had held on to everything from Bruce and his investigation. He just hadn’t been able to bear throwing anything away.

  
Thirty minutes later, Peter pulls up to the house. Morgan follows him as he unlocks the door, peering around him as he once again struggles with the lock.

  
“Have you considered labeling your keys?” Morgan suggests quietly, the corner of her mouth ticked upwards. Peter gives her a harmless glare, but the smirk on her face doesn’t go away.  
Finally, he manages to open the door.

  
“MJ?” Peter calls. Silence. “I’m pretty sure she’s at work. You want anything to drink before we crack open that research?”

  
“Maybe just water,” Morgan says. Peter nods, reaching into the fridge and grabbing a water bottle for Morgan, and a Coke for himself. He tosses the water to the girl and she catches it with ease.

  
“Alright, let’s go downstairs,” Peter crosses the kitchen and pulls open the door that leads to the basement. The room is dark, and while Peter is able to descend the stairs fairly quickly, Morgan takes longer, carefully watching her feet to make sure she doesn’t misstep. At the bottom of the stairs, they come to another door, and when Peter punches in a code, the door swings open.  
Peter can’t help but grin when he hears Morgan gasp.

  
The artificial lights flicker on, revealing Peter’s very own lab. There are multiple workstations and computers set up throughout the room, along with countless scientific tools such as microscopes and beakers. Peter knows that it’s not much and that Tony’s lab at the compound had been significantly larger—at least twice the size. However, Peter finds himself in his lab almost every day of the week tinkering on his suits or testing out different chemistry formulas. In fact, it’s down here that he gets all his ideas for Parker Industries—the business that he had started a few years ago.

  
“Welcome back, Peter,” Karen greets him as he walks farther into the lab. “How are you doing today?”

  
“I’m doing great, Karen, thanks for asking. Did anything happen while I was away?”

  
“My records report that the lab has been quite uneventful since you were last here, which was yesterday evening.”

  
“Perfect,” Peter moves towards a desk located in the very back of the lab but stops when he realizes Morgan isn’t following him. He turns and finds her gaping at the glass cases along the wall that held his Spider-man suits. She turns back to him, her eyes as big as dinner plates, and Peter assumes at first that she’s simply awed by the suits themselves. Until—

  
“Wait, you know Spider-man?”

  
Peter blinks. Does she not know that he’s Spider-man?

  
“Morgan… I _am_ Spider-man,” Peter says slowly, feeling quite perplexed at the moment. “Did you not pick that up from all of the stories I’ve told you about my life so far?”

  
“You didn’t exactly come outright and say: “I am Spider-man”. When you were talking about your—webs and stuff, I just assumed they were really advanced tech gadgets,” realization is slowly hitting Morgan in the face—the pieces of the puzzle are coming together.

  
“Well, technically, they are advanced tech gadgets,” Peter shrugs, turning around and making his way to a small desk sitting in the back corner of the room.

  
“Oh. Wow. My older brother is Spider-man. That’s crazy!” Morgan exclaims, and Peter whips around the moment he realizes that Morgan’s not being cool about this at all. Maybe it’s too much to expect out of an eleven-year-old, even Tony Stark’s eleven-year-old.

  
(He chooses to ignore the jump his heart does when Morgan labels him as her older brother. He has more important things to deal with at the current moment. Right?)

  
“Okay, kid, you can’t tell anyone that I’m Spider-man,” Peter warns her, pointing at her with a pen that happens to be in his hand. “I keep my identity a secret for one reason: to keep my family safe.”

  
“I swear I won’t tell anyone ever,” Morgan promises. “cross my heart and hope to die.” She demonstrates her point by tracing out an ‘x’ shape across her chest with her pointer finger.

  
“Thanks,” Peter says. He gives her a smile, and she mirrors it with a huge grin. Yeah, it’s safe to say that he’s grown rather fond of her. For a moment, he wants to wonder what it would have been like with her being his little sister, but he stops himself before he can allow himself to fall into that hole.

  
He won’t allow himself to imagine the things that would never be possible in his future.

  
He goes to the desk in the back, motioning for Morgan to follow him. He bends down and pulls the bottom drawer of the desk open, lifting out a cardboard box and setting it on top of the desk with a thud. The box is sealed shut with packing tape, so Peter reaches over for a pair of scissors and rips it open. The box is filled to the brim with different kinds of folders and papers.

  
“Well,” Peter says, his eyes trained on the box. Morgan peers into it, her face scrunching up. “This is everything. We’d better dig in.”

  
“Let’s do this,” Morgan says confidently, and she reaches for the file resting on top. Before she can, Peter finds himself blocking her hand from succeeding at this.

  
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Peter asks her. Morgan’s expression morphs into one of confusion, and she retracts her hand slowly. “Because you know… this could take a lot of effort for absolutely no reward.”

  
“Or, we could make my dad remember you and then we’ll all be a happy fa—,” Morgan cuts her sentence off, and Peter knows she was going to say the word _family._ “We’ll be happy.” Then, she sighs. “Peter, are you sure _you_ want to do this? Look, I know I’ve been pretty persistent with this, but if you’re not comfortable…”

  
“No. No, I… I am,” Peter says. “You’re right, we need to look at the positives. C’mon, we have a lot of reading ahead of us.”

  
Morgan grabs the file she had been originally going for and opens it. Peter bites his lip, worrying that she’s thinking of outcomes that are too positive, and he would hate to see her get hurt when things don’t turn out the way she’s expecting. The only outcome is closure for Tony and his family. That’s it. Then, Peter will go home and continue to live his life, possibly—hopefully—with less guilt than he used to harbor.

  
He’s not apart of the family—he doesn’t deserve to be. He gave up that chance the minute he walked out of the Avengers compound.

  
Peter shakes his head, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He pulls out a file, smiling to himself when he sees Bruce’s neat scribbled handwriting.

  
It’s time to finish what they started.

  
It’s time to fix the unfixable.

* * *

 

“Peter, you’re not thinking clearly.”

  
The day after Peter walked out of the compound, he came back to gather the last of his belongings from his room. His room was at the end of the hall—and out of Tony’s sight meant out of Tony’s mind. His room was now bare; his closet was cleaned out of all clothes, his desk drawers were empty, the Star Wars posters that had been hung up on the walls had were now taken down and in the trash. There was now no indication that anyone had lived there, much less a teenage boy.

  
Bruce was standing in the doorway, watching him from under the glasses that rested on his nose. Peter elected to ignore the good doctor’s words because he was too thinking clearly—as clear as day. Peter continued to fill his brown cardboard box with all of the random items in his room, such as bobble-head figures, picture frames, mugs, and the lightsaber that Tony had gotten signed by Mark Hamill himself. He kept moving because the minute he stopped, he knew he might regret the choice he was making.

  
“Peter, you don’t have to do this,” Dr. Banner continued with a sigh. “Pete, what happened? You used to be so dead set on not giving up on everything, and now you’re just… leaving?”

  
“I can’t do it, Bruce,” Peter said, pausing to look at his mentor. (That wasn’t his actual mentor, though. Although Banner was now a good friend of his, he was his fake mentor, a cover-up. His real mentor was gone, though, so Peter would have to simply settle for the things he had.) “We’ve been looking for so long, but no one can find anything. It’s just like nothing ever happened.”

  
“There’s an obvious solution, Peter,” Bruce reminded him. “Why don’t you just spend time with him? Try to jog his memories?”

  
Peter looked down at the ground, chewing on his lip.

  
“He’s not the same person,” Peter told the scientist, his voice small. “I—I had a conversation with him the other day, and his whole persona was different. Bruce, you remember the research—when a person loses their memories, they change. It’s like, he sees me, but he doesn’t care about me. To him, I’m just another snot-nosed kid taking up space in his labs.”

  
“You just need to try and get that version of Tony back. That version is there, he just needs help finding it.”

  
Peter shook his head. He went back to packing, going through his desk drawers and pulling out folders, papers, and all sorts of knick-knacks that he had wanted to save.

  
When he had been eight years old, his mother and father dropped him off at his aunt and uncle’s house, promising to be back before Peter even noticed they were gone. For days, he would stare out the windows, watching for their familiar car to pull up into the driveway, ready to take him back home. Weeks passed, though, and they never did. His uncle and aunt had explained to him that his mom and dad had died in a car accident and that they weren’t coming back to get him.

  
Peter stopped looking out that window.

  
Flash forward a few years, after a radioactive spider bit him and gave him powers, he had raced out of his apartment in anger, only for his Uncle Ben to get shot by a random robber after following him out into the cold New York night. Every day when Peter came home, he’d forget that Ben wasn’t there to ask him how school was, or to talk to him about the latest Star Wars movie that they’d watched. Every time he walked into that empty apartment, he felt nothing but disappointment because just like his parents, his uncle wasn’t coming back.

  
It took Peter a long time to stop hoping, to stop watching outside those windows for the people who said they’d be there forever and then... weren’t.

  
Peter didn’t want to do that again, not with Tony. He couldn’t.

  
He wouldn’t.

  
“We said that we’d stop looking for solutions when it didn’t make sense to do so anymore,” Peter said, continuing to go through the desk drawers. “Well, it’s stopped making sense to me.”  
Bruce gave him a long, sad look.

  
“I won’t force you to stay, Pete,” he said, “I think you should, but I want you to be happy, and I know that Tony would want you to be too.”

  
Bruce disappeared. Peter opened the bottom drawer of his desk, finding a picture frame lying face down. He picked it up, turning it over and recognizing it immediately. It was a picture of him and Tony after the latter had given the former an actual internship for Stark Industries. Tony had paid him and everything. After Tony gave Peter the certificate, Pepper had insisted on taking a picture of them together. It was a very informal photograph, with the certificate flipped upside down, Peter grinning wide and giving his mentor bunny ears. Tony had his usual professional expression on his face, but the fact that he was holding up his own set of bunny ears behind Peter’s head gave Tony’s cool persona right away.

  
Peter’s heart tugged as he studied it. He missed that. He missed Tony, his mentor, his father figure. He set it down into a cardboard box, back into its face-down position so that he doesn’t have to look at it anymore. Bruce came back into his room, now with a stack of papers and files in his hands.

  
“This is all of our research that we did,” Bruce said. “I want you to keep it, so if you ever decide to come back you can have somewhere to start.”

  
The doctor looked tired, and older than he had been before everything in Peter’s life went to shit. Peter couldn’t help but feel guilty, because the man had dedicated so much of his time to helping Peter bring Tony’s memories back. So he took the papers from Bruce, setting them down into the cardboard box on top of the picture frame.

  
“Thanks for all of your help,” Peter said as he closed up the box. “I really appreciate it.”

  
“You can thank me by keeping in touch, okay?” Bruce queried. “I know I’m no Tony Stark, but I can help you get into a fair share of colleges. You’re a smart kid, Peter. Keep yourself going in the right direction.”

  
“I will,” Peter promised. He taped up the box, grabbing the other one and preparing to carry them all out to Happy’s car. Then, he sticks out his hand, and Bruce takes it, giving it a firm polite shake. “Bye, Dr. Banner.”

  
Peter kept that promise. Peter came by Bruce’s lab monthly to catch up with the doctor and get advice on his latest projects. True to his word, Bruce helped Peter get into MIT, and later, he gave his input on Peter’s new and upcoming business, Parker Industries. Then, on the day Peter married the most important woman in his life besides his aunt, Bruce was there, giving him words of encouragement along the way.

  
Sure, he wasn’t Tony. But he sure came pretty close in Peter’s book.

  
And Peter was grateful for that.

* * *

 

It takes them four hours to get through the entire box.

  
Morgan is sitting on the floor, cross-legged, surrounded by papers with a notepad in her lap. Her elbow is resting on one of her knees, cheek in her palm, as she finishes reading her last paper. The desk where Peter is currently working at is covered in research and documents, and when he finishes reading the packet in his hands he sets it down, taking all of the papers and putting them all into a neat pile. He sighs, leaning back in his chair.

  
Morgan sets down her paper. She glances into the cardboard box that is resting on the floor next to her.

  
“It’s empty,” Morgan announces. Then, she frowns. “Wait, there’s something else.” She reaches into the box and pulls out a dusty picture frame, flipping it around so that she can see the picture inside. “It’s a picture of you and my dad. Wow, you both look a lot younger.”

  
Peter looks up at her and she turns the picture around to show him. With a pang, he realizes it’s the Stark Internship photo from so long ago.

  
“That was taken…” Peter counts in his head, internally cringing when the number of years gets higher and higher. “Thirteen years ago. I’m pretty sure.”

  
“You looked happy,” Morgan comments, turning the picture so that she can look at it some more.

  
“They were pretty good times,” Peter says wistfully, then proceeding to turn away from her and mindlessly looking back through the research papers.

  
(Don’t think about it, he tells himself. Don’t think about the better times—it’ll just hurt even more.)

  
“Yeah, looks like it,” Morgan says, and if she has any other thoughts on the matter, she doesn’t voice them. She simply sets the picture frame to the side, faced up so that Peter can still see the photo out of the corner of his eye. “So, from what I picked up from the research, Project X basically created a blockage in his memories, right? It forced them back so that it’s almost impossible for my dad to recall them.”

  
“Right,” Peter confirms, straightening up in his chair. “And it doesn’t help that it’s been a long time since those memories were blocked, so it’ll take a lot of stimuli to extract them, such as objects that have significance to his memories of me.”

  
Morgan looks around the lab, her face scrunched up in concentration. Then, Peter watches as her gaze falls onto the wall of Spider-man suits.

  
“My dad is obsessed with Spider-man,” Morgan says somewhat quietly. “When he retired, he decided to put away his Iron Man suits so that he wouldn’t have the temptation to work on them and possibly disrupt the peace. So, instead, as a hobby, he likes to make Spider-man suits and other stuff for him, even though he’s never met him.”

  
“So…” Peter coaxes, curious to what she’s getting at.

  
“Well, your entire relationship was based around Spider-man, right?”

  
“Yeah, for the most part,” Peter says, starting to understand where this was going.

  
“Well, you can use Spider-man to extract the memories, because that’s what the majority of his memories of you are based on, ” Morgan explains. Peter nods slowly, taking in her words. Morgan smiles, tossing her pencil in the air and catching it in her fist triumphantly. She stands up, letting the notepad and papers fall out of her lap and onto the ground. “I mean, that sounds like the beginning of a plan to me.”

  
“Yeah, it does,” Peter agrees, but he finds himself unable to match her excitement. She’s practically beaming with joy, and Peter realizes just how much of a chance she has of getting hurt. They haven’t brought it up, but included in the research was the fact that the more time that passes, the less likely memories will be able to be recalled.

  
But maybe that’s not exactly why Peter isn’t exactly thrilled to be jumping straight into this. Perhaps it’s the fear that it will work, and that he’s going to have to face one of the biggest mistakes he’s ever made in his life. He already promised Morgan that he’ll at least help her try to reverse the effects of Project X, so he’s not going to back out now—he can’t bear to crush her fiery spirits like that—but in the back of his head his Spidey sense is telling him that there’s certainly nothing good in store for him.

  
Footsteps come from the stairs, and the door to the lab is opened, revealing MJ clad in jeans and a long sleeved t-shirt. One of the things Peter loves about her is how she retains her style from when she was younger—she never let anything change who she was, not if she didn’t want to change. Sure, she’s mellowed out from having kids, and Peter likes to tease her about how she’s becoming a soccer mom, but she’s still the same MJ who has no fears of putting someone in their place.

  
“Peter, dinner’s ready,” MJ tells him. Her gaze pans over to Morgan and a look of surprise flickers across her face at seeing the young girl. MJ gives Peter a questioning look, but Peter just shakes his head, giving his wife a silent promise to give her a full explanation later. With a nod, MJ looks back at Morgan and says, “Uh, Morgan, honey, you’re free to join us if you’d like.”

  
“Oh, are you sure? I mean, I can just head home, you don’t have to…” For the first time in the short while that Peter’s known Morgan Stark, she seems unsure of her welcome. Peter rolls his eyes at the notion of her not knowing that she’s always welcome in the Parker residence, but he can also recall himself being in the exact situation many years ago when Tony and Pepper first invited him to stay for supper.

  
“C’mon kid, stay for dinner,” Peter encourages her. “You’ve been here for four hours now searching through boring research, the least I can do is feed you a meal.”

  
Though she’s still hesitant, she nods her head. MJ heads upstairs first, and Peter waits for Morgan to catch up to him before following his wife.

  
“Your wife seems really nice,” Morgan comments, keeping her voice low so Peter’s the only one who can hear. “She _is_ your wife, right? I’m not like, imagining the wedding bands or anything?”

  
“She’s my wife. I’m still not really sure how it happened,” Peter laughs as they continue to ascend the staircase. “And yeah, she is pretty awesome, isn’t she?”

  
They make it upstairs just in time for them to hear MJ’s frustrated voice coming from the kitchen.

  
“Benjamin Anthony Parker, quit throwing peas at your sister or so help me God…” MJ is standing next to Ben, who’s currently sitting at the table, her hands on her hips. Ben’s hands are frozen in the air, wrapped around a spoon with a single pea sitting in it, ready to launch itself onto Anna’s plate, who is currently giggling at the scene from her high chair. Their son slowly lowers his spoon, letting the pea fall back down onto his own plate. MJ sighs, sitting down in the chair between the two. Peter sits next to Ben, gesturing for Morgan to sit down next to him.

  
“It’s not much, unfortunately, only hot dogs and Mac and Cheese. I didn’t have a lot of time after work to cook, and usually Peter is the one who cooks, but apparently he was preoccupied with something else,” MJ says. Morgan shakes her head, a smile donned on her face.

  
“It looks perfect, Mrs. Parker,” Morgan praises.

  
“Please, just MJ, hun,” MJ corrects, not unkindly. “So, Morgan, where do you go to school?”

  
The small talk continues, and Peter notices how much Morgan’s presence fits in with their family. Morgan seems to relax more and more as the meal progresses until she’s joining MJ in teasing Peter and making faces at Anna from across the table when she thinks Peter and MJ aren’t looking. The dynamic works, and it feels bittersweet for Peter to see how it could have been if he hadn’t given up on the other part of his family.

  
“Daddy, can I show Morgan my birthday presents?” Ben asks Peter as dinner comes to a close. Peter can’t help but roll his eyes at the fact that Ben has learned that in order to get what he wants, he has to ask Dad, not Mom.

  
“Only if she wants to stay for longer,” Peter answers his son, and Ben turns to Morgan, an expectant look in his eyes.

  
“Yeah, I can stay for longer,” Morgan says, “My parents aren’t home, they’re at a charity thing until tomorrow, and Happy usually doesn’t make me come home until ten o’clock.”

  
“Great,” Ben cheers. “I’ll bring them to the living room.” He moves to slide out of his chair, but Peter stops him, grabbing a napkin and wiping the gross Mac and Cheese residue that somehow made it onto his forehead. Ben’s hair is brown like Peter’s, but he has Mary’s eyes and MJ’s face shape. He’s a perfect mix—he’s proof of the Parker family history.

  
Peter lets him go, and Ben takes off towards his room to get his toys. While waiting for Ben, Peter and Morgan do the dishes, MJ taking Anna to the living room.

  
“I really like your family,” Morgan says quietly as she dries a plate. “It’s so… normal.”

  
“Your family is normal too, isn’t it?” Peter frowns, and Morgan quickly nods.

  
“Yeah, of course… or at least they try to be normal,” Morgan explains. “But it’s really hard to be a normal family when your parents are Tony and Pepper Stark, you know?”

  
“Yeah, I bet,” Peter says, and he finds himself really sympathizing with her because he’s been there first hand to see how busy her parents are—and that was back when Tony was still Iron Man. Not only that, but Peter thinks the girl is enjoying spending time with Ben and Anna; he recalls the conversation they had last week where she said she’d always wanted siblings.

  
They finish up in the kitchen, and Morgan follows Peter into the living room where Anna’s playing with her toys and MJ is sitting on the couch flipping through a magazine. Peter sits next to his wife, putting an arm around her shoulders, and watches as Ben shows Morgan each and every birthday present he’d received the other day. Anna crawls over to where Morgan’s sitting on the floor, climbing into the latter’s lap, babbling happily as Morgan bounces her playfully. It’s a great sight, and Peter catches MJ smiling from behind her magazine.

  
Peter knows that come tomorrow, he and Morgan’s plan to get Tony’s memories back will begin, reopening the past and all of the pain that’s been residing there for so long. But for right now, he decides to push that to the back of his mind, opting instead to focus on the present.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part was mainly build up, but the next part will have Peter interacting with Tony a lot. Yay!
> 
> Feel free to leave a comment—I love reading what y'all think!


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can back out. He can turn around, leave this all behind, and things will all go back to normal. But then he catches a glimpse of Morgan’s hopeful, determined face, and rings the doorbell.
> 
> He’s not going to back out.
> 
> Not again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright guys, it took a long time, but here is the third and final part. Now, the reason it took so long is because this chapter is a little over 12K words. I wasn’t shooting for that much in the slightest, but I really didn’t want to split it in half and mess up the flow or make you guys wait even longer for the ending. I hope that’s alright. 
> 
> Also, I just want to say thank you to you guys for giving this fic so much support. I really hope this part lives up to your expectations.
> 
> Okay, that’s enough, I’ll shut up. Get some water and maybe a snack because this part is really long. Enjoy :)

Later that night, Peter sits on the edge of his and MJ’s shared bed after having already taken Morgan home earlier, his elbows resting on his knees, his cheek resting in the palm of his right hand. He’s completely lost in thought, unable to think about anything other than tomorrow. Tomorrow he’ll be forced to come back to the person he ran away from twelve years ago. It scares him, not knowing what’s going to happen, what Tony’s going to say—that is if the man even remembers enough to say anything at all. There is the looming threat that their plan may not work, and Peter feels guilty because he almost hopes that it won’t work. But that would crush Morgan, and Peter doesn’t want to see that happen.

 

The door to the bathroom opens, and MJ comes out, already in her pajamas. Her hair is dripping wet from the shower she’d just gotten out of, and she’s currently brushing it out with a hairbrush, a towel draped over one arm.

 

“The hot water’s pretty much gone,” MJ says, but she doesn’t sound apologetic in the slightest. “If you had joined me like I asked, maybe you would have been able to catch some of it.”

 

Peter laughs, straightening his spine. MJ sits next to him on the bed, setting the towel down as she continues to work through her hair.

 

“Your sister is cute,” MJ says softly, segway-ing into the conversation they were bound to have at some point in the night.

 

“She’s not really—” Peter stops himself because he knows very well by now that blood does  _not_ determine family. His Aunt May’s blood doesn’t flow through Peter’s veins, yet she’s practically his mother in every way possible. Tony Stark, though he is  _certainly_ not related to Peter, had been his father figure a long time ago, and might still be if it wasn’t for Hydra wanting to rid Peter of everything he held dear. “Yeah, she is, isn’t she?”

 

“Does she remind you of him?”

 

“In literally every way. She’s his carbon copy.”

 

“She’s  _very_ persistent,” MJ observes. Peter chuckles.

 

“Very. I almost changed my email address.”

 

“How are you feeling about what she’s asking you to do?” MJ asks, and Peter’s eyebrows raise, not bothering to hide his surprise. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t said anything about the situation he’s found himself in.. MJ notices his surprise and gives a tiny smirk. “I’m very—”

 

“—observant,” Peter finishes for her, shaking his head with a smile because that’s MJ’s superpower: to be able to pick up on everything that’s going on around her. “Yeah, I mean… it’s just a lot, you know? I made the decision to leave, and I never thought I’d be backtracking. At least, not at this point in my life.”

 

“Do you regret saying yes?”

 

Peter thinks on that for a moment, biting his bottom lip.

 

“No. At least, I don’t think so. It’s… it’s like how anyone would feel when facing their fears,” Peter says. “If you’re afraid of rollercoasters, you don’t exactly regret saying yes to going on one, but you can feel nothing but dread as the line gets shorter and shorter.”

 

“But then, when the roller coaster stops, you feel nothing but relief,” MJ points out. She puts a hand on his bicep, leaning in so her head is resting against his shoulder. “Because you  _did it._ You survived the ride.”

 

“Right,” Peter nods, her words slowly beginning to sink in. “Question is: will I survive?”

 

“I think that’s a question you have to answer for yourself,” MJ lifts her head to look him in the eyes.

 

Peter sighs, breaking away eye contact. “It’s just—MJ, if it does end up working, and he  _remembers,_ what am I going to do? What—what is he going to  _say?”_

 

“He may be upset at first,” MJ admits. “But I don’t believe that the results will be as negative as you think they’ll be. Peter, you’re his son in practically every way, and I’m sure he’ll still love you the same way he loved you twelve years ago.”

 

Peter can’t bring himself to say anything, and the room is enveloped in silence for a few moments.

 

“Okay, look at it this way,” MJ tries a different approach. “Tell me, if you were in Tony’s place and  _Ben_ was in yours, would you love Ben any less?”

 

“Of course not,” Peter answers with a quick shake of his head. “Nothing could make me love him less. He’s my son.”

 

“Then why is it any different with you and Tony?” MJ raises an eyebrow, her sharp green eyes not leaving his face.

 

“It’s not,” Peter says quietly. “But it feels like it is.”

 

“You’ve been waiting in line for that roller coaster for so long,” MJ whispers. “But Peter, you have to stop letting people in front of you and get on the damn ride. You’ll feel so much better once you do. I promise.”

 

“What if I don’t?”

 

“Well, then you’ll have me,” MJ answers. “I’ll always be here to pull you back onto your feet, just like you did for me when my dad died. We’re in this together, Parker. Don’t you dare forget that.”

 

“How the hell did I get so lucky to have a girl as amazing as you?” Peter pulls her back so they’re both laying down on the bed looking up at the ceiling.

 

“I really couldn’t tell you,” MJ laughs.

 

They lie in that position for a while, MJ eventually falling asleep on his arm. Peter can’t help but smile at the sight because damn if he doesn’t love this woman so much.

 

Sure, what’s to come is unknown and scary, but at least he has the most badass woman he’s ever met in his corner.

 

* * *

 

The wind howled, whipping through the trees as Spider-man lept straight into a near-abandoned Hydra base.

 

He supposed he wasn’t thinking rationally, but when was he ever these days? Nevertheless, Peter forced himself to not think at all as he tore through the base, unsure what he was looking for but keeping an eye out anyways. There had to be something here, anything that could be helpful in his now months-long quest. 

 

He was halfway through the base when he noticed a man, a Hydra agent, dressed in all black, holding a gun out towards him. Peter slowed down to a halt, a smirk forming on his mouth because  _finally,_ something useful.

 

“You know, buddy, I’d put the gun down if I were you,” Spider-man told the man, slowly approaching to where the agent was standing.

 

“I’m not afraid of you, Spider-boy,” the man snarled, readjusting his grip on his gun. “You made a mistake coming down here.”

 

“Did I?” In a flash, Peter shot a web at the wall above the man’s head, flipping onto the agent’s shoulders, twisting around, grabbing the gun and sending the agent crashing to the ground. He webbed the agent’s arms and legs down to the floor, pointing the gun straight at the agent. “You know, I think you’re the one who made a mistake coming down here.”

 

“So what, are you gonna kill me?” The agent taunted, a sneer on his face.

 

“Maybe,” Peter shrugged, “only if you don’t cooperate.”

 

“You’re full of shit, Spidey,” the agent spat. “Spider-man’s not a killer. You can hardly arrest muggers and drug dealers.”

 

“People can change. But that’s enough small talk. Now, onto the real business,” Peter crouched down beside the agent’s head. “You’re going to tell me everything you know about Project X.”

 

“Project X? You mean the memory erasure project?” Peter nodded. The agent just simply laughed. “Look, even if I knew anything, why the hell would I tell  _you_?”

 

“The gun pointed at your head could be great motivation,” Peter suggested, pressing the gun against the agent’s temple. “Now, if you don’t want me to blow your brains out all over such a pretty Hydra base, you’ll tell me what I need to know.”

 

“Do it,” the agent dared. “Pull the trigger. Shoot me. C’mon, Spider-man, prove that you’re not all talk.”

 

To Peter’s horror, he came close to giving in and firing the gun. But at the last second, his conscience finally caught up with him. The agent was right; Spider-man wasn’t a killer. So instead, he angrily slammed the butt of the gun down onto the agent’s head, knocking the man unconscious. He fell back onto his ass, putting the gun on safety before setting it onto the ground.

 

He was so wrapped up in what he had done that he almost didn’t see the shadow standing in the corner. He would have gotten up to fight, but his Spidey-sense didn’t go off, so he made no move to get up. Besides, he could tell who it was just from the way the person was standing.

 

“How long have you been standing there?” He asked, and Natasha Romanoff came out from under the shadows, the moonlight seeping in from the windows illuminating her blood red hair.

 

“Long enough,” Natasha said, not willing to elaborate further.

 

“How did you know where I’d be?”

 

“You’re leaving behind trails these days,” Natasha said, and Peter hoped she wouldn't start scolding him about covering up his tracks better. “So it was easy to predict where you’d go next. I’ve gotta say, you’re starting to run out of Hydra bases to rummage through.”

 

Peter didn’t say anything, looking down at his hands.

 

“Peter, the thirst for revenge doesn’t look good on you,” Natasha told him.

 

“I’m not—I’m not after revenge,” Peter protested.

 

Natasha raised her eyebrow at that, nudging the unconscious agent with her foot. “I think this guy would beg to differ.”

 

“I wasn’t gonna do it,” Peter said quietly. “I just wanted answers. I’m not a murderer.”

 

“What did you want answers for? I thought you decided you were going to let Tony forget?”

 

“I just wanted to find the guy responsible,” Peter told her, his voice weak, but he didn’t want to tell the assassin that it’s the guilt of running that’s fueling his refusal to give up the search for anything that had to do with Project X.

 

“To get revenge?” Natasha sat down onto the ground next to him, grabbing the gun and shoving it into her combat boot.

 

“No, I—” Peter sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know what I’ll do when I find him. But I’m not a murderer. You know that, right?”

 

“I know, Peter,” Natasha assured him, her green eyes uncharacteristically soft as she looked at him. “I know you’d do the right thing. But, kid, trust me when I say that this kind of road that you’re going down isn’t healthy. You need to accept what’s happened and move on.”

 

“Did Steve tell you to say that?” Peter asked with a chuckle.

 

“Kind of, yes,” Natasha admitted. “But I can’t help but agree with him. Peter, we’re all worried about you, and if you don’t stop what you’re doing soon, you’re going to turn into the person that you’ve been trying so hard not to be.”

 

Peter bit his lip, looking down at the unmoving agent on the ground.

 

“Peter, I know all of this has been hard on you… but Tony would want you to be happy and, most of all, safe. But if anything, do it for your aunt.”

 

Peter nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from the agent. He was frightened to death by the road he was on, so much that he wanted to turn around. Natasha stood up, holding her hand out to help Peter up. Peter took one last look at the agent before taking Natasha’s hand, getting to his feet.

 

Together, they walked out of that base, and Peter never looked back. That was the day Peter officially gave up the hunt.

 

That was the day Peter Parker went on the run from his past.

 

But no one can run forever.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter is waiting to meet Morgan in front of the same coffee shop that they’d met in yesterday, only this time, instead of being Peter Parker, he’s Spider-man. He leans against the brick wall, arms crossed, occasionally checking the watch on his wrist as minutes pass by. Eventually, she shows up, sauntering over with her inseparable backpack slung over her shoulder as per usual.

 

“Would it kill you to be on time for once?” Peter grumbles, kicking off of the wall to stand in front of her.

 

Morgan just shrugs, not looking guilty in the slightest. “I’m not late, you’re just early. Now come on, we only have a short window of time before my dad has to leave for a board meeting.”

 

They get into Peter’s car, the old Ford Focus reluctantly sputtering to life.

 

“Hey, you should get a Spider-man themed car,” Morgan suggests, buckling herself into the passenger seat. “You could call it the Spidey Mobile.”

 

“I think that’s the worst idea I’ve literally ever heard,” Peter tells her. “And I live with a three-year-old.”

 

“Don’t knock it until you try it.”

 

They pull up to Stark Mansion, Peter parking the car a little further away so that it’s not easily visible from the front door. They both get out, and Peter can feel his heart rate start to pick up. Morgan glances at him as she comes around the front of the car.

 

“This is your last chance to back out,” Morgan reminds him gently.

 

“I’m good,” Peter assures her, but he’s more saying it to himself. He nods his head and starts walking towards the front door. Once they get there, Peter’s fingers hover over the doorbell.

 

He can back out. He can turn around, leave this all behind, and things will all go back to normal. But then he catches a glimpse of Morgan’s hopeful, determined face, and rings the doorbell.

 

He’s not going to back out.

 

Not again.

 

He raises his chin up high and waits for the door to open, expecting to see Happy or even Pepper, so he’s in for a surprise when Tony himself opens the door. For what it’s worth, Tony seems equally surprised to see Spider-man standing on his doorstep with his eleven-year-old daughter. Peter opens his mouth to say something, but Morgan beats him to it.

 

“Dad, I was in the city, walking to the library to do some homework, when I was attacked by some really scary men!” Morgan cries out, and Peter’s taken aback by her on parr acting skills. He feels like he should be afraid of her on some level. “But Spider-man saved me and offered to take me home!”

 

Tony steps forwards and takes Morgan’s face in his hands. “Are you alright, Maguna?” He wipes a tear that’s falling down her cheek. Wait, tears? Damn. Peter almost takes a step back. Tony draws his daughter in for a hug, Morgan wrapping her arms around him tightly.

 

“You’re alright,” Tony murmurs, kissing the top of her head. “You’re okay. Okay?”

 

Morgan pulls away, wiping her eyes and sniffling. She nods in agreement.

 

“I’m okay.”

 

“Good. Why don’t you go upstairs and take a nap? I’ll bring you some dinner in bed later, okay? Sound good?”

 

Morgan nods again and slowly makes her way up the stairs. Before she disappears, she looks back at Peter, who is now the subject of Tony’s full attention. She has a grin on her face as she gives him a quick thumbs up. Then, she skips the rest of the way up, leaving Peter alone with Tony in the foyer.

 

Tony straightens up. “I can’t even express how grateful I am. Thanks for saving her—I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to her.”

 

“Well, that’s my job, Mr. Stark,” Peter says with a wave of his hand. Something flashes across Tony’s face when Peter calls him “Mr. Stark”. He seems to be trying to recall something, but when he can’t, he brushes it off.

 

“Please, call me Tony. Anyways, I have to admit, I am a very huge fan of your work,” Tony says. “This is going to make me sound creepy, but I’ve been keeping an eye on you for quite some time now, and I’m very interested in your abilities and your tech. Say, would you mind if we went down to my lab and looked at a few things? Just because you’re here.”

 

“Yeah, no, I’d love that,” Peter agrees, and Tony leads him over to an elevator which takes them down to the workshop. Peter’s not surprised to see that the workshop is huge—at least three times as big as Peter’s personal lab. When they enter, Dum-E greets them with an excited whirl.

 

“Hey, Dum-E,” Peter smiles, finding that he’d missed the old bot.

 

Tony turns around, perplexed. “How do you know its name?”

 

Peter bites his lip, unsure of what to say. “Just, lucky guess…” he decides on and instantly regrets it because Tony still seems very skeptical.

 

“Okay, then… anyway, Spidey, come look at this,” Tony walks over to one of his multiple hologram tables and waves his hand up, pulling up a blueprint. Peter moves closer and sees that it’s a blueprint for a Spider-man suit.

 

Man, Morgan really wasn’t kidding. Tony Stark really likes Spider-man.

 

“I have lots of ideas for designs for a potential Iron Spider suit. I know that’s not your usual style, but there are so many potential features that could be added in with it,” Tony says. Peter doesn’t have the heart to tell Tony that years ago, Tony had gifted this same exact suit to Peter, minus a feature here and there.

 

(That suit is still locked away in Peter’s workshop. He hasn’t used it since Titan, but sometimes he likes to look at it and remember how it felt to have Iron Man  _care_ about him.)

 

“It looks really cool, Tony,” Peter says, giving a small, sad smile that the mechanic can’t see because he still has his mask on.

 

“It’s not cool enough, though,” Tony says. “That’s where you come in. What would you say to partnering up with me? I can supply you tech and back you up with funds, and you can come in and give input on designs.

 

“I know this is kind of sudden,” Tony continues, “But I’ll be honest, I’d really like to work with you. As I said, I’m a big fan of what you do. You look out for the little guy and I admire that a lot. So what do you say?”

 

“Uh, y-yeah, yeah, that sounds great,” Peter agrees, and he’s surprised that he actually  _does_ want to do it. It doesn’t feel like he’s doing it for Morgan or MJ or even Tony… no, it feels like he’s doing it for Peter Parker. Maybe that’s a sign that deep down, he does want this to work. That maybe he’s hoping to get one of the most important people in his life back.

 

“Awesome,” Tony cheers, raising his fists in triumph. Then, he clasps his hands together and looks at Peter with one eyebrow raised. “Now… is there any chance you’ll take off the mask?”

 

Peter knows that he should take off the mask—if anything will help jog Tony’s memory, it’ll be revealing Spider-man’s identity. But as he realizes this, he feels himself start to tense up and panic, and at the last minute, he decides against it.

 

“No, sorry,” Peter blurts, aware that he’s going to regret this decision in the future. Oh well—he can always do it next time. Besides, he tells himself that he can’t throw everything at Tony all at once—it has to be taken slowly in order for Tony to safely get all his memories back.

 

(Is it Tony who needs this to be taken slowly?

 

Or is it Peter?)

 

“I just, I have to protect my family, so the fewer people who know my identity the better,” Peter explains, his tone apologetic, and it doesn’t feel like a lie.

 

“No worries, Spidey,” Tony says, not unkindly. “I completely understand that.”

 

“Thanks,” Peter says gratefully.

 

They fall into more silence as Peter begins to flip through the different holographic blueprints that Tony’s drawn up. There are so many design ideas, most of them for the Iron Spider suit, but there’s more for potential web shooters and other tools that Peter hadn’t even thought of. It’s all so cool, and it makes Peter want to be the Peter that Tony knows now. Maybe, instead of regaining past memories, they could just make new ones. No harm, no foul, right? That way, everyone wins.

 

Aside from that, Peter can’t help but notice that Tony’s being oddly trusting of him. He’s been around Tony Stark long enough to know that the man doesn’t let people in easily at all—it takes time and perseverance. He figures he might as well ask about it.  “Are you okay with not knowing my identity?”

 

It takes a minute for Tony to answer the question, but finally, he says, “Yeah, I am. This kind of thing is not my usual move, I gotta be honest, but… I don’t know. For some reason, I trust you. Not just because you’re Spider-man and you saved my daughter. I don’t know how to explain it, but I trust the man under the mask, even if I don’t know who you are.”

 

“Well, thanks. For trusting me, I mean,” Peter reaches up to scratch his neck because he has a feeling he knows why Tony trusts him so much.

 

_(“You know, my dad knows that he’s missing something. He doesn’t know what it is, but I can tell that he’s aware that something important in his life isn’t there anymore._

 

_“You can’t get rid of a hole in your heart, even if you manage to forget who used to fill it.”)_

 

“So! The blueprints,” Tony claps his hands, turning his attention back to the blueprints. “Got any inputs?”

 

He does. He gives his ideas and Tony gives his own ideas, and it’s starting to feel like the old days when they used to work in the Compound for hours on end until Pepper had to come downstairs and physically drag them up to the kitchen to eat something. Some of Peter’s favorite memories were made in that Compound workshop.

 

But while this feels the kind of the same, it’s different, because there’s no parental affection shining in Tony’s eyes, no “good work, kid” when he discovers a solution to a design flaw, no prideful expression whenever Peter does something right. Instead, Tony looks at him the same way he’d look at a co-worker—with politeness, but no familiarity.

 

But that’s just the way things are now. He just has to get used to it.

 

And as the days go on, he finds himself managing to adjust.

 

Around every three days, Spider-man stops by Stark Mansion to help Tony with the Iron Spider suit. It becomes natural, and Peter has to admit that sometimes he forgets what he’s supposed to be doing. He enjoys Tony’s company, and Tony seems to enjoy his, and Peter just can’t find it in himself to ruin the rhythm that they have going. So the mask continues to stay on.

 

Three weeks after their initial meeting, Peter is sitting at one of the workshop benches, tinkering with his newest pair of web shooters. The mood is quite relaxed, and Tony sits across the table from him, tapping on his tablet as he works on mandatory stuff for Stark Industries. They’ve been talking small talk for the last hour, but Peter notices that Tony’s gone quiet. He glances up from his web shooters and realizes that Tony is staring straight at him.

 

“Uh, is everything okay, Tony?” Peter asks with a frown, the name still feeling weird in his mouth. Tony starts, quickly looking back down at his tablet before sighing and setting it down on the table.

 

“Yeah, I’m peachy, just didn’t get much sleep last night,” Tony assures Peter, but Peter knows the man well enough to know he’s hiding something.

 

“You sure that’s all?”

 

Tony purses his lips together, leaning forward and putting his elbows on the table, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “Okay, this is going to sound super weird. Like, you-might-run-away-screaming weird. In fact, I don’t know if I should…”

 

“Tony,” Peter says, making sure his tone is soft, “Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of “weird” things in my life. You can tell me—I promise I won’t run away.”

 

_Not again. Not like last time._

 

“Alright then, if you say so…” Tony rubs his goatee before continuing. “Ever since I met you, I keep having these dreams. You’re in them—with your mask off. And the thing is, the dreams are always so  _vivid_ like it’s a memory, but the only thing I can never remember is what you look like.”

 

Peter feels his heart stop. Was it happening? Was Tony finally beginning to remember? He tries to keep his voice steady as he prompts Tony to continue. “What’s happens in the dreams?” Peter’s long since put down his web shooters, as his fingers are starting to shake. It crosses his mind that Tony will probably notice this at some point, so he puts his hands in his lap, out of sight.

 

“They’re not all the same. Some are normal, where we’re kicking ass together, but some…” Tony stops, rubbing the back of his head. “Let’s just say they’re not as fun. It’s just so strange, seeing as I’m pretty sure none of those things have happened. If they did, surely I would remember them, right?”

 

Peter swallows thickly. “Yeah. Right, yeah, totally. I’m sure they don’t mean anything so I wouldn’t worry about it.”

 

“Yeah, I’ll try not to. Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have told you about it.”

 

“No, no, it’s okay,” Peter assures the man. “It’s not healthy to bottle things up. I know that better than anyone.”

 

Tony’s eyebrows furrow. “Are you the kind of guy to keep it all in?”

 

“No, I try not to. A long time ago, I knew someone who almost tore himself apart because he refused to talk to anyone,” Peter says, and he thinks back to the time when he found Tony passed out in his workshop, surrounded by empty bottles of alcohol, a flip phone gripped loosely in his hand. “So yeah. Even though the dreams are probably just… well,  _dreams_ , I’m glad you told me.”

 

_(“I just wanted to be like you…”_

 

_“And I wanted you to be better. “)_

 

Peter hopes he’s what Tony would have wanted him to be.

 

* * *

 

Although it was a bumpy ride, with several setbacks along the way, Peter finally graduated high school.

 

He imagined that somewhere out there, Uncle Ben and his parents were watching, proud expressions on their faces as he walked across that stage. He did it for them, after all—them and Aunt May. He had pushed through even when life got so tough that he didn’t think he’d ever move on.

 

He did it for Tony too. He wasn’t self-deprecating enough to believe that his former mentor wouldn’t be proud of him. No, Peter liked to believe that if Hydra has never meddled in their lives, Tony Stark would be cheering him on right beside Aunt May.

 

So when he walked the stage and accepted his diploma (a huge cheer erupted from a single portion of the venue as he did), he thought about those who had loved him and those who still loved him.

 

There were a lot of people to think about. For an orphan, Peter Parker sure did have a lot of people in his boat.

 

After the ceremony, he finds those people outside, secluded far away from the large crowds. Aunt May is the first person he sees, and she wrapped him up into her arms, holding him tightly while she cried tears of joy.

 

“I’m so proud of you,” May whispered, pulling away so that she can cup his face in her hand. “My baby boy is all grown up. I just wish Ben and your parents were here to see this.”

 

“I owe it all to you, May,” Peter grinned. He’d gotten taller in the past few months to where he slightly towered over her. “Thank you so much for all you’ve done for me.”

 

“You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. You know that, right?” May dropped her hand to take Peter’s own hand, holding it tightly in her grasp.

 

“I know. You tell me all the time,” Peter says, and they both laughed because there was no one on Earth—or off of it for that matter—who doubted May Parker’s unconditional love for her nephew.

 

Peter pulled away from May to turn his attention to everyone else standing around him. The Avengers, very well disguised in sunglasses and hats, were standing there, proud expressions on each of their faces.

 

“Congrats, Petey!” Clint cheered, looping his arm around Peter’s next and putting him in a loose headlock, fondly ruffling Peter’s hair. “You passed all your classes and got a piece of paper in return!”

 

“Yeah, congratulations, Short Stack,” Sam came up next and gave Peter a few pats on the back. “Can’t wait to see you do this all over again in college.”

 

Peter rolled his eyes, releasing himself from Clint’s hold and reaching up to quickly fix his hair. Yet, he’s far from annoyed, because all of the faces there was a good distraction from the fact that one of the most important faces in Peter’s life wasn’t there. “Thanks, guys.”

 

Bruce made his way in front of Peter next, and he held out his hand, a proud smile on his face.

 

“Congratulations, Peter. We’re all very proud of you,” he said as Peter shook his hand. “And please, don’t let these ding dongs diminish your accomplishments. Clint dropped out of college and literally joined the circus.”

 

“Hey, AP classes may be hard, but have you ever tried tightrope walking forty feet in the air while shooting flaming arrows at a small target?” Clint challenged Bruce. Peter just laughed—his team really was the best.

 

“Hey, really, thank you for everything, Bruce,” Peter said earnestly. Really, Peter owed a lot to the scientist. The man had taken Peter in when he’d just lost a huge part of his life. Peter hoped that one day he could repay Bruce in some way.

 

Steve and Natasha approached him next, and like Bruce, Steve shook Peter’s hand. “Congratulations, son. All your hard work really paid off, and I can’t wait what you do from here.”

 

Natasha gave him a soft smile, breaking her usually stoic expression. The last time Peter had seen her was when she’d found him beating the life out of a group of Hydra agents about three months ago. “You should be proud of yourself, Peter. You pulled yourself back together. That takes strength.”

 

“Well, I had the help of an amazing super spy assassin,” Peter grinned. Natasha just winked before stepping back.

 

Wanda came up and gave Peter a hug, a human version of Vision following close behind her. Peter returns the hug, as over the years of knowing Wanda, she’d really started to become something of an older sister to him.

 

“Congrats, Peter,” She whispered. “We love you so much.” Vision put a hand on Peter’s shoulder, a fond expression on the android's face.

 

“You have accomplished a great deal in your young life so far,” Vision said. “That in itself is an accomplishment, Peter Parker.”

 

“Yes, it sure is, Man of Spiders!” Thor boomed, nudging everyone else out of the way to get his turn with the teenager. Practically everyone shushed him for almost exposing Peter’s identity to the entire graduating class of Midtown High. “Sorry. Anyways, it is always a joyous occasion when anyone graduates from the highest of schools! After this, we shall feast!”

 

“‘Feast’ meaning a small party at the Compound,” Bruce quickly informed Peter. “We assumed you wouldn’t want anything too grand.”

 

“Really? There’s gonna be a party?” Peter looked around at each teammate and his Aunt May, excitement forming when he saw each of them confirm with nods and smiles. “Oh my gosh, that’s—that’s amazing! Thank you guys so much! For the party, and for just being here in general. Seriously, it means a whole lot that you came.”

 

“Awe, you couldn’t have kept us away, kiddo,” Clint chuckled, and all of their teammates nodded in agreement.

 

Suddenly, the sea of Peter’s teammates splits apart, and a familiar strawberry-blonde woman appears, sunglasses and a smile on her face.

 

“Mrs. Potts?” Peter breathed because he had  _not_ expected her to be there.

 

“Hey, Peter, honey,” Pepper greeted him, pulling him in for a hug.

 

“You came?”

 

“Of course we came, sweetheart. We wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

“Wait,” Peter frowned, as he caught on to what Pepper had said before. “Who did you mean by “we”?”

 

As if Peter had summoned it with his question, he heard a familiar voice coming from behind Steve. He glanced over in that direction and caught a glimpse of a fancy Armani suit and a flashy pair of red tinted sunglasses. Peter’s eyes snapped back to Pepper, who didn’t look guilty in the slightest.

 

“He’s here?” He tried to keep his voice light for the sake of everyone around him, but he was given away when it broke.

 

“I made him come to see Bruce Banner’s intern graduate,” Pepper explained, her voice soft. “I know that your relationship isn’t the same but… I just felt like he should be here. I hope that’s okay with you, hun.”

 

Steve stepped out of the way to reveal Tony Stark, who looked like this is one of the last places he’d like to be. Rhodey was walking next to him, but then made a beeline for Peter when he saw the teenager.

 

“Great job, Pete,” Rhodey praised, clapping Peter on the shoulder. Peter gave him a nod of acknowledgment, but it’s getting hard to speak because his former mentor slash father-figure was there, and yet there’s none of the parental pride that shines in May’s eyes. There’s nothing but politeness. Still, Peter figured he shouldn’t complain—it was better than Tony not being there at all.

 

“Congratulations, Mr. Parker,” Tony said, holding out his hand for a shake. Peter accepted the shake, hardly able to utter out a “thanks”. “Say, Pepper mentioned you got into MIT?”

 

“Yes, sir, I did,” Peter said, and he didn’t fail to notice the way Aunt May beamed with pride.

 

“He sure did, alright, along with a full ride scholarship,” May chimed in from where she stood next to Peter.

 

“Well, that is quite an accomplishment. You know, I used to go there, like, eons ago,” Tony told him.

 

“Yeah, I know, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Stark, everyone and their dog knows where you went to college,” Sam said while rolling his eyes.

 

“Yeah, you haven’t exactly kept it a secret,” Clint said.

 

“I’m sorry, what was your degree in again, Barton?” Tony asked flippantly.

 

“Damn, everyone’s dishing out the low blows on Hawkeye today,” Clint muttered, but he doesn’t say anything else to elongate the conversation.

 

“That’s what I thought. Anyways! If you ever need anything at all, I have pull there, obviously. So let me know if anything ever comes up. Now, let’s get back to the Compound and get the party started, shall we?”

 

Before Peter left, he quickly found Ned, high fiving him when he did.

 

“I can’t believe we’re going to college,” Ned cried out in joy. Ned had also gotten into MIT.

 

Right before Peter’s about to leave, he noticed Michelle Jones watching them from where she was standing with her parents and grandparents.

 

“Congratulations, MJ,” Peter said, giving her a wave.

 

“You too, Parker,” MJ said in her usual casual tone. Peter was about to walk off when she said, “Keep in touch, okay, losers?”

 

“Will do, MJ,” Peter grinned, but despite what he said, he couldn’t help but wonder if he’d ever see her again as he and Ned walked away. He figured it would be nice to keep in touch with her. She was a really cool girl.

 

* * *

 

Though he brushes Tony’s dreams off at that moment, he later recalls the conversation with Morgan while they’re sitting inside their usual crap-tastic coffee shop, Peter in his usual clothes—his Spider-man suit is stuffed inside his backpack.

 

“Wait, he’s been having dreams about you?” Morgan looks like she’s about to jump out of her mind with excitement. “Peter, you’re almost there! Like, he’s literally on the verge of remembering everything!”

 

“Yeah, I know. Awesome, right?” Peter smiles, but he finds he’s having to force himself to keep the happy facade up.

 

“Yeah, totally!” Morgan is grinning from ear to ear. “So, obviously, the next step is to reveal your identity to him. Will you do it today?”

 

Peter bites his lip, unable to meet her eyes. “I’m not sure about today…”  


“Okay, then how about tomorrow?” Peter can feel the vibrations of Morgan’s knee bouncing up and down with anticipation.

 

Peter hesitates. “I don’t think tomorrow’s a good idea, either, kid…”

 

Morgan’s smile starts to slowly fade.

 

“So when? This weekend?”

 

“It’ll happen, eventually…” Peter sighs, unable to give her a straightforward answer.

 

“Eventually? Does that mean in a week, two weeks… or…?”

 

“I just don’t know, Morgan,” Peter snaps, and the moment the words leave his mouth he regrets it. Morgan’s face crumples entirely.

 

“Are you ever going to do it?” Morgan challenges, her expression morphing into one of upset.

 

“Yes, Morgan, I’m going to do it,” Peter says, his voice weary. “Just, not now. Later.”

 

“Later isn’t an answer,” Morgan’s eyes are now narrowed, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “So stop saying that.  _When are you gonna do it?”_

 

“Morgan, just listen to me, will you? I know it seems like things are going fast, but they’re not—there’s still a lot of progress to be made,” and maybe his words are true, but they feel like a lie when they come out of his mouth.

 

“So revealing your identity will help speed things along! Don’t lie and say that it won’t, because we  _both_ read the research!”

 

“Kid, I don’t—”

 

“Why won't you just admit that you’re too much of a coward to try and fix the mess that  _you_ created?”

 

“I don’t know what you’re wanting here!” Peter blurts out. “What outcome are you waiting for? Why is it  _so_ important to you that he remembers? This doesn’t affect you! This is between Tony and me—no one else.”

 

“It “doesn’t affect” me?” Morgan’s voice lowers significantly, and she glares at him with such hatred that if looks could kill, Peter would be six feet under by now. “I lied before, you know. I didn’t find the custody agreement form the other day. I found it  _six months ago._ And since then, all my mom and Happy can talk about is how perfect you were, and how much different our family would be if my dad still remembered you. How much  _happier_ my dad would be if you hadn’t left all those years ago.

 

“Mom kept saying that you’re the missing piece of the puzzle and that if you came back, we’d be whole again. So I found you and tried to bring you back,” A tear falls down Morgan’s cheek, and all Peter can do is sit with his jaw hung open because he never would have imagined this meant so damn much to the kid. “But I guess you just don’t want to come back. So I won’t force you anymore.”

 

She lifts up her purple backpack and rummages through it for a second before pulling out a familiar black picture frame. It’s the photo of him and Tony that they’d found in the box of research. Peter hadn’t even realized she’d taken it. She slides it across the table face up so that Peter can see the picture.

 

“Go back to your normal life or whatever,” Morgan says, her voice low and shaky. “I just wanted to put my family back together again, but I guess we’ll continue to live without you.”

 

She swings her backpack onto her shoulder and storms out of the coffee shop. Peter leaps to his feet. “Morgan…”

 

But she’s already gone. Peter considers following her, but decides against it. He’s been that age before, and he’s pretty sure that if he had been in his situation, he would have wanted to be left alone too. He sits back down, setting his head in his hands.

 

He glances back up at the picture, remembering the happiness he was feeling when that photo was taken. The feeling of being apart of a family that accepted him for who he was. His gaze shifts up towards the door where Morgan had disappeared. He bites his lip, picking up the picture frame and holding it tightly in his hands. He takes a deep breath.

 

Today’s the day he gets on that damn ride.

 

He has to. For Morgan.

 

For his little sister.

 

He stands up, placing the photograph into his backpack before zipping it up and racing out of the shop. He stops into a nearby alleyway, quickly changing into his Spider-man suit. He pulls the mask over his head before jumping into his car and slamming on the gas, driving in the direction of Stark Mansion.

 

Today’s the day he faces his biggest fear.

 

Because being a coward is one thing Peter hopes his children will never know him as.

 

He gets to his destination in record time. He can feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins, blood roaring in his ears as he doesn’t even give himself time to think about what he’s doing. This isn’t about Peter Parker. This is about the Stark family and helping them become whole again. This is about Morgan, who is the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world, and yet still feels like she’s responsible for safety pinning her family’s holes back together again. This is about Tony, who deserves to have the dreams stop, who needs to know the  _truth._

 

Peter’s tired of living with his lies.

 

He gets out of the car, grabbing his backpack from the passenger seat before running up the front door and knocking. Happy is the one who answers.

 

“Uh, hey, Pete. Spidey,” Happy says, seemingly still confused with Peter and Tony’s current arrangements. “Tony isn’t expecting you for another half hour.”

 

“I know, sorry, should I come back?” Maybe there’s a part of Peter hoping Happy will send him away, tell him to go home, but Peter ignores that part. He now recognizes that voice as fear, but he doesn’t want to be afraid anymore.

 

“No, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Happy decides. “He’s up in his workshop, I’m pretty sure.”

 

Peter thanks the man and walks towards the elevator that will take him to the workshop. On his way, he keeps an eye out for Morgan, because he really wants to talk to her, but she’s out of sight. He rides the elevator up and steps into the workshop.

 

“Hey, Spidey!” Tony calls from their usual workstation. He’s staring at something that isn’t visible to Peter. “You’re just in time. I’ve finished the Iron Spider suit. Wanna take a look?”  


Peter moves over to where Tony is and finds that the man is looking at the completed Iron Spider suit, which is standing up in a display case. “Wow, Tony, that looks amazing.”

 

“You want to try it out?”

 

“Um, well…” Peter hesitates before continuing. His heart is racing, but he has to do this. “I don’t really need to, because I already have the Iron Spider suit. It’s back at home.”

 

Tony’s face twists in confusion. “What?”

 

“Friday, can you pull up the Iron Spider blueprints from 2018?” Peter asks the AI, and on the holo-screen Friday shows them the blueprints. Tony is frowning, eyebrows furrowed, as he studies the blueprints. “Do you remember these, Tony?”

 

“No, I don’t…” Tony slowly reaches through and flips through them. He reaches up and puts his fingers to his temple. “I mean, it’s my work, it has to be, the designs are familiar. How… how did you know about this?”

 

Peter doesn’t say anything, instead opting to sit down onto a stool.

 

Tony whips around to look at Peter. “Who… who the hell are you?”

 

“You know who I am, Mr. Stark,” Peter says quietly. “You’ve heard my voice before. Just… think.” The man just shakes his head, grabbing the back of his head.

 

“I have a headache. Shit,” Tony says, striding over to the other side of the workshop and reaching into the cabinet. He grabs a bottle of Advil and swallows a couple of tablets. “So you’re saying I  _do_  know you?”

 

“That’s right, Mr. Stark.”

 

Tony doesn’t say anything, just leans against the cabinets, squeezing his eyes shut. Minutes pass, silence enveloping the room, until Tony’s eyes fly open again, realization striking his features.

 

“The dreams—you’re the boy from my dreams,” Tony’s since gone pale, gripping the edge of the counter so hard his knuckles are going white. Peter starts to worry that the man is going to pass out. “I remember your voice. But I can’t remember who you are… or how I know you in the first place…”

 

Peter gets up and goes over to his backpack, fishing out the picture frame. He walks back over to Tony, holding out the picture frame. “Maybe this will help,” he says as the man takes the frame into his own hands.

 

Tony holds the picture in front of him, staring at it with wide, unblinking eyes. For several seconds, he doesn’t move, and Peter’s just beginning to think he’s broken his former mentor when the man drops the picture, the frame clattering onto the floor. He slides to the ground and grabs both sides of his head in pain, his hands white and shaking, and Peter lunges forward, his hands hovering, unsure what to do—if there’s anything he  _can_ do.

 

Peter watches as Tony sits there, drumming his fingers against his skull. Time seems to stand still, and the only thing Peter can hear is the blood pulsing in his ears. The lab is silent, but the moment is loud.

 

Then, Tony slowly raises his head, his eyes moving up to look at Peter, and there’s something in the man’s eyes that Peter hasn’t seen in a long time—not since the day they’d been captured by Hydra. There are familiarity and recognition in them.

 

“Kid?”

 

Peter stays quiet, the shock of what’s happening keeping him frozen in his spot. He did it. He got on the ride, but he doesn’t feel relieved. He just feels… regret. Sadness.

 

“Pete? Peter?” Tony’s palms are now flat on the ground, his whole body shaking as he continues to stare at Peter.

 

Peter reaches up and pulls the mask off of his face. “Hey, Mr—Mr. Stark.”

 

Time is crawling. Tony reaches up with one of his hands, the tips of his fingers brushing against Peter’s cheek.

 

Tony retracts his hand back to his side. “Peter—what? What happened? Where did you go?”

 

Peter swallows, biting the bottom of his lip, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, because that’s the question he’s been dreading for so long.

 

“Peter?”

 

“Do you remember Hydra? And Project X?” Peter asks. He can answer the  _what._ He doesn’t want to answer the  _where,_ or the  _why._

 

“Kind of… it’s kind of all jumbled up, but I… I remember being in a cage with you. You’d just been shot,” Tony recalls. His eyes drop to the floor. “That memory, you being hurt like that—that was one of the dreams I’ve been having the last few weeks.”

 

“He erased all of your memories of me,” Peter explains, toying with his fingers. Tony frowns and nods, understanding. For a moment, Tony’s quiet, probably trying to process all this information, and although Peter knows it’s wishful thinking, he can’t help but hope that’s all the man wants to know.

 

But like always, Peter has no such luck.

 

“That was—that was  _twelve years ago._ Why did it take so long for you to make me remember?”

 

“Because I let you forget,” Peter finally admits, feeling the adrenaline fade, and he’s now left bone tired, all of the guilt and the hurt that’s he’s been trying to run from catching up to him. He hates the look that Tony gives him when he realizes exactly what Peter means. The shock and confusion mixed with underlying disappointment, because Peter failed to be the son Tony had thought he was.

 

“Why the hell did you do that?” Tony asks him, and Peter has to look away because he can’t bear Tony’s expression or the way his voice breaks. “I don’t understand, what were you thinking?  _Twelve years,_ Peter!”

 

“I was just a kid,” Peter finds himself dumbly trying to defend himself, but he cringes at how weak that argument sounds. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

 

Silence befalls the workshop yet again. Tony won’t stop staring at him, to the point where Peter is starting to fidget under his hard, shell-shocked gaze. Finally, Peter decides that enough is enough, and shakily rises to his feet.

 

“I—I should go,” Peter announces, taking a few steps back towards the shop doors. “But I’m sorry. For what I’ve done. Really. I… I am.” He turns around and heads for the doors, wringing his mask in his hands.

 

Tony doesn’t say anything, nor does he make a move to stop him. He just stays on the ground, leaning against the cabinets, his eyes not leaving Peter’s figure. Not that Peter expects anything different.

 

So he leaves.

 

When he reaches the first floor of Stark Mansion, he runs into Morgan, who seems significantly less upset than she had earlier. When she sees him, her eyebrows raise in surprise, obviously not expecting him back here so soon, if even at all. He stops when he’s in front of her, looking her straight in the eyes.

 

“It’s done. He remembers,” Peter tells her, and Morgan’s jaw drops. “But just so you know? I shouldn’t have been the missing piece of your puzzle. Your family still makes a pretty neat picture without me. You’re just looking at it the wrong way.”

 

With that, he walks out the front door, leaving Morgan frozen in her place.

 

He’s running yet again because running is the only thing Peter Parker knows how to do.

 

He gets into his car, refusing to let himself cry because that’s a luxury that Peter doesn’t deserve. He pulls away from Stark Mansion, probably for the last time in his life. He considers going home, but even though he wants to curl up in MJ’s arms and fall apart, Anna and Ben are probably still awake, and he doesn’t want his children to see him like this. So instead, he directs his course to Aunt May’s apartment, because his aunt will always make things better.

 

He’s halfway to Queens when his phone vibrates. He glances over at it, and when he’s sitting at a red light he picks it up, reading the text. It’s from Bruce.

 

 **Bruce Banner:** Peter, I need you to come to my lab ASAP, please. There’s something important we need to discuss. Let me know if you can make it.

 

Peter almost wants to ignore it in order to properly mourn losing his third father figure for the  _second_ time in a little over a decade. But then, what if Bruce really needs him? The last thing Peter wants to do is push more people out of his life.

 

So he grips the steering wheel in his hands, turning it sharply to the right in order to turn around. He gets a few honks from behind, but at this point, Peter really can’t find it in himself to care. He presses on the gas, speeding through New York City as fast as he can. As soon as he can, he picks up his phone and quickly types out a response to Bruce.

 

 **Peter Parker:** on my way.

 

* * *

 

It was probably because Tony Stark, the lord of parties, had given some input (and funding too, probably) for it, but Peter’s grad party was the best time he’d ever had. Sure, Bruce had made sure that Tony didn’t go overboard, but there were still tons of decorations and food all over the place. Although Peter had to admit, the best part of his party was the fact that he was celebrating his graduation with the  _Avengers._

 

The party lasted a long time, but one by one people started leaving. Clint had to fly back to his family, Wanda and Vision went back to their shared house outside of the city, and Natasha, Steve, and Sam had a mission they had to get back to. Still, there were a lot of people there, and Peter wasn’t sure how he managed to be able to get away by himself for a little bit—but he did. He was sitting in the side living space, which only had a couch and two tables—it was designed to be somewhere you could go for some peace and quiet.

 

“How did you manage to sneak off?” Peter sensed Tony before he heard him. He didn’t bother turning around to look at his former mentor, instead opting to stare straight ahead out the window.

 

“Sometimes, the more people there are looking for you, the easier it is to slip away,” Peter replied.

 

“Now those are words to live by,” Tony said. There was silence until Peter heard the babbling of a baby, and since there was no way that was Tony, Peter turned around to see who made the noise.

 

Perched on Tony’s hip was, in fact, a baby girl, who couldn’t have been over the age of one. She had brown hair and brown eyes and Peter’s heart flips because he knows exactly who that little girl it.

 

“This is my daughter, Morgan,” Tony said, looking down at her with so much love in his expression, and Peter remembered what it was like to receive even a fraction of that look. That baby had to be the luckiest baby in the whole goddamn world. “She’s a year old, but I feel like she was born yesterday.”

 

“She’s adorable,” Peter said, a blush creeping up his neck. Tony gave him an amused look.

 

“Do you like kids?”  


“Yeah, my aunt works in the maternity ward, so sometimes I get to go and hold the babies,” Peter explained.

 

“Great. That’s awesome news because I really have to pee, and I’d give her back to Happy but he seems more interested in the cold cut sandwiches that Laura Barton sent in,” Tony said. He holds Morgan out towards Peter. “Would you mind watching her for a minute?”

 

Peter agreed, and Morgan was put into his lap. Tony disappeared, leaving the two of them alone together.

 

Peter couldn’t help but feel a strong connection to this child. If things were different, Morgan would easily be Peter’s little sister. He bounced her on his knee, making her giggle.

 

“I gotta tell you a secret, Morgan,” Peter said quietly. Morgan raised her head to look at him. “Well, it’s not much of a secret—I mean, the only person who doesn’t know is your dad.” He took a deep breath, unable to pinpoint the reason why he was nervous to talk to a one-year-old. “My name’s Peter, and I think you’re my little sister. Not by blood, but by paper—although, I think that’s the best way to be related, don’t you?”

 

Morgan squealed in response as if she's taking in every word he's saying. Peter felt a smile spread across his face.

 

“Now, I’m not gonna be around a lot, because your dad forgot about me,” Peter swallowed, a mixture of emotions swirling around his heart. “So if I was around a lot I think it’d just get weird. Which sucks, because I’d love to watch you grow up.” Peter held out a finger, and Morgan grasped it in her tiny hand. It was crazy, but Peter already felt like he loved her, even though they’d only known each other for less than five minutes. 

 

“But I promise, if you’re ever in trouble, or if you ever just need to be put back together, I’ll help you. No matter what, because I’m your older brother and I’m pretty sure that’s what they do, right?” Morgan yawned, rubbing her eyes and falling against Peter’s chest. Peter froze for a second, just listening to her heartbeat. “I’ll give you the world, Morgan. Just say the word and I’m there.”

 

After Tony came back and took her out of his arms, Peter couldn’t help but feel saddened by the loss of her presence. Tony, Pepper, and Happy took Morgan home, and he didn’t ever see her again. That is, not until ten years later when she shows up on his doorstep, soaked to the bone from the rain, begging him to come back and put her and her family back together again.

 

And even though it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, he tries to help her.

 

Because that’s what older brothers do, right?

 

* * *

 

Bruce Banner lives about five miles out from Avenger’s Compound, in a small, modest cabin in the woods. The cabin is built to contain the Hulk just incase an accident is ever to happen, but from the outside, you would never expect that the skeleton of the house is built out of Vibranium. There’s a little dirt path that leads from the main road to the cabin, and that’s the path that Peter’s Ford Focus is following now, although it’s struggling because this type of car can barely drive on a normal, much less one made of dirt and rock.

  


He parks the car out in front of the cabin. His curiosity is strong, but not strong enough to block out all the emotions he’s feeling at the moment. He just can’t get Tony’s shock or Morgan’s hurt out of his head.

 

He doesn’t even bother knocking on the door. If whatever Bruce has to talk about is so important, there’s no time to waste on social curtsies. He just walks straight in, noting how the living room and kitchen are empty.

 

“Bruce?” He calls out, closing the door behind him. “I’m here. Where are you?”

 

“In my lab, Peter,” Bruce’s voice answers.

 

Peter follows the voice into Bruce’s lab. The lab is more the size of Peter’s, and like the rest of the cabin, reflects Bruce Banner’s modest personality. The man is sitting at a workstation, fiddling with his glasses that are perched on his nose.

 

“Hey, Bruce,” Peter greets the man as he steps into the lab. They’ve long since been on a first name basis. “Is everything okay?”

 

“Take a seat, Peter,” Bruce says, his voice soft, and Peter frowns at the heavy atmosphere. For a second, Peter has the sickening feeling that something happened to MJ and the kids, but he waves the thought away because Karen would have alerted him by now.

 

“Bruce, what’s going on?” Despite the lack of word from Karen, Peter’s starting to get worried.

 

Instead of answering the question, Bruce turns head and nods at something behind Peter’s shoulder. Peter twists around to see that it’s not something, but someone standing in the corner of the lab, and he starts to feel a strong sense of deja vu because Natasha Romanoff is staring straight at him, watching.

 

“Hey, Nat,” Peter says. It’s not surprising to see her here—no matter what they say, Bruce and Natasha have some sort of romantic relationship going on, so she’s over at his cabin a lot.

 

“Peter, we have something to talk to you about,” Natasha says, moving closer to where Bruce and Peter are sitting at the workstation. Peter notices a flash drive in her left hand. “It has to do with Project X.”

 

Peter freezes at those words, but it doesn’t matter because Natasha isn’t done speaking.

 

“We found the guy, Peter. We found him and everything that has to do with his work on Project X,” Natasha continues. “Clint and I found it buried deep in Hydra’s servers. We weren’t even looking for it. It was pure coincidence that we stumbled across it in the first place.”

 

Natasha holds out the flash drive. “Everything we found is on here. Though you should probably know that there is no cure if that’s what you were always looking for.”

 

Peter doesn’t take the flash drive right away. He just stares at it, unable to look away because that flash drive contains all the answers that he’d ever wanted. It’s proof of what Peter had taken away, stolen from him. He’s ached for it, yearned for it, but yet now it’s right in front of him—close enough for him to touch.

 

“So what do you want me to do with it?” Peter asks, glancing back and forth between Bruce and Natasha. The two exchange their own glance.

 

“Peter, I don’t think you should take it,” Bruce says hesitantly. “You worked so hard to move on. Don’t let that hard work go to waste.”

 

Peter’s eyes flick over to Natasha. “And what do you think?”

 

Natasha considers her words before speaking. “I think that you’ll never get the closure you need if you don’t take it,” she says. Bruce sputters in protest, but one hard look from Natasha quiets him back down. “Peter, it’s up to you.” she gives him a knowing look, holding the flash drive out to him. He hesitates at first, but he eventually takes it from her.

 

All the answers are now in his hands. He gives her a ghost of a smile, closing his fist around the flash drive.

 

“I should get home,” Peter says, “But thanks, Natasha. Really, this means a lot.”

 

“You’re welcome. Just… remember to make the right choice.”

 

“I’ll do my best,” Peter turns to leave but stops before he reaches the door. “I did it, you know. I made him remember.”

 

“You did?” Bruce’s eyebrows rise. “What made you change your mind?”

 

“A long time ago, I made a promise,” Peter tells him. “I just needed the right push to follow through on it.”

 

Ten minutes later, he’s driving towards home, the flash drive sitting on the dashboard. It taunts him, begging him to look at the contents inside. He tries to ignore it, but there’s use. Peter can’t stop glancing at it.

 

_Do the right thing. Make the right choice._

 

His phone vibrates. An incoming text.

 

 **Tony Stark:** I’m sorry I was acting so weird. It was just a lot to take in. Can we talk?

 

Without responding, Peter flips the phone over so he can’t see the illuminating glow of the screen.

 

Everything. That’s what Hydra took from Peter Parker. He feels a spark of rage flutter in his chest, and he pulls over onto the side of the road, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and plugging the flash drive in. Dozens of files come up onto the screen, and Peter hungrily reads through each one, his fingers shaking as he scrolls further and farther down.

 

Project X. A scientific study of the brain, or more specifically, of the hippocampus. The goal was to be able to erase a specific person or event from someone’s memories. It was lead by a scientist named Doctor Ronald Campbell, who was secretly working for Hydra. Once Project X was deemed a success after it was tested and proven on an undisclosed subject, Hydra used it for various things, including torture and kidnappings.

 

Meanwhile, Campbell went free.

 

He retired to a small cottage in east Pennsylvania, right next to the New York state border. He never paid for his crimes against the many people who had their lives (including Peter's) ruined because of an evil science experiment. Peter stares at the screen, unable to believe that justice hasn't been served.

 

Peter slams the laptop shut and shoves it into the passenger seat, turning the car back on and speeding in the opposite direction of Queens.

 

Ronald Campbell is going to pay—Peter's going to make sure of that.

 

His Ford Focus isn't built for speed, but damn if he doesn't push it as fast as it can go. It's a miracle he doesn't get a speeding ticket while he's racing down highway 78 towards Easton, Pennsylvania because he doesn't think he's driven a car so fast since MJ went into labor with Anna. Speaking of MJ, he's able to come out of the cloud of emotions that he's impulsively acting out on enough to remember to tell Karen to let her know that he's going to be very late tonight. Already he can see the sun setting on the horizon, the road in front of him getting darker after every minute.

 

While he's driving, he gets a call from Pepper, but he lets it go to voicemail.

 

" _Peter, Tony told me what happened_ ," her voicemail says, " _call me back so we can know you're doing okay. Please._ "

 

Peter doesn't call her back. There's no way he can have an easy adult conversation right now—that can wait until tomorrow.

 

Five minutes later, Bruce tries to call. It, too, goes to voicemail. " _Peter, I called MJ—she said you haven't come home yet. Where are you?_

 

 _Please don't be where I think you are._ "

 

The drive to Ronald Campbell's house is an hour and forty-five minutes. Peter cuts that time down to an hour. He's just pulling up outside the house when MJ herself calls.

 

Voicemail.

 

" _Peter, the kids are wondering where you are. You told Ben you'd finish telling him the story that you started yesterday. He keeps bothering me about it._

 

_I heard you did it. I'm proud of you, but if you're not okay, please let me help. We're in this together, Parker._

 

_Call me back, or come home. One of the two. I love you. We all do."_

 

Ronald Campbell's house is in a neighborhood where every residence is spread out by a mile of land. The porch light is on, practically a beacon in the sea of darkness, as the sun has long since set. It also means that someone is home, so Peter gets out, trying to be quiet as to keep the element of surprise.

 

He makes it to the porch before he realizes he had changed out of his Spider-man suit. Instead of changing back into it, he simply opens the trunk of his car, pulling out a handgun and a knife that he keeps in a locked compartment. He's never had to use either tool before, but it's looking like today might be the day. Still, he grabs one of his web shooters before walking towards the house. Just in case.

 

He's not walking in as Spider-man. No, this is Peter Parker's fight.

 

The front door is unlocked, but Peter hardly finds that unnerving. Later, he'll look back and realize that there are zero rational thoughts going through his head as he opens it and walks through the house. The house is dark, the walls bare and empty, making it seem like no one actually lives here, but the glow from the TV in the living room states otherwise. There's hardly any furniture, only a small table in the kitchen and an armchair in the living room that faces the TV.

 

In that armchair is a man. It's turned away from Peter, so he can only see the silver grey head of hair peeking over the back of the chair. Even though he can't see his face, he immediately knows that this is, in fact, the Hydra man in the white lab coat. Peter grabs his gun, his finger hovering over the trigger as he comes to a stop in the living room doorway.

 

"Have you come to kill me?" Peter almost drops his weapon at Campbell's words. His voice is shriveled and horse, but it still has the same menacing tone.

 

"I don't know," Peter answers honestly. He comes around the armchair so that he's facing the old man. Campbell's eyes don't leave the TV, but he's not watching. His pale, wrinkled lips are stretched into a sickening smile. "Should I?"

 

"I've upset a lot of people in my day. It wouldn't come as a surprise if you do."

 

"Do you even remember who I am?" Peter watches Campbell through narrow eyes.

 

The man turns his head to look at Peter. He thinks for a moment before saying, "No. I don't."

 

Anger flares up in Peter, and he brings the gun up to point the barrel straight at Campbell.

 

"Wait," Campbell gives Peter a second look before recognition hits him. "You're the kid who was with Stark. The Spider-boy. Yes, I remember you—I'm guessing you were the one he lost his memories of? Though I must say, you didn't seem to be anyone worth remembering in the first place."

 

"You  _asshole,"_ Peter hisses. "Do you not regret anything? All of the people whose lives you ruined?"

 

Campbell laughs. Peter sees red.

 

"Of course not. That's just the price of science."

 

Peter lunges himself at Campbell, pulling him out of the armchair and throwing him to the ground. Campbell just continues to laugh, and Peter puts his foot on his chest, pressing down hard so that the man can hardly breathe.

 

Faintly in the background, he hears the sound of repulsors outside the house, but he doesn't take the time to process what that means.

 

"Now  _this_ is the price of science," Peter snarls, "And you're gonna be the one to pay it."

 

He holds the gun out, seconds away from pulling the trigger.

 

"Peter!"

 

Peter looks up from where he's standing and is taken aback by the sight in front of him.

 

Iron Man is standing in Ronald Campbell's living room, both iron gauntlets held out in front of him, ready to fire if necessary. The helmet folds back into the suit, exposing Tony Stark's calm but concerned face. Tony takes a cautious step forward as if he's approaching an injured animal.

 

"Pete, put the gun down," Tony says, his words careful and slow.

 

"You don't understand, Mr. Stark," Peter cries, glancing from Campbell and back to Tony. "This guy took so much from so many people!"

 

"I know. And trust me, he will pay for what he's done by rotting in a jail cell for the rest of his life," Tony tries to reason. "But if you kill him, you will live with it for the rest of your life. I don't want that for you. So put the gun down and we'll call the FBI."

 

"He ruined my life," Peter's voice breaks.

 

"No, he didn't. Peter, you have a wife and two kids that you love. You have Bruce, Natasha, and even Rhodey," Tony's voice is soft and gentle, and it's able to calm Peter down a little. "You have a little sister who went through hell and back to bring you home... and you have me."

 

"I lost twelve years with you," Peter says, his voice barely a whisper.

 

"Yeah, sure, you did," Tony agrees, "but we have a lot of years left together. You've gotta stop living in the past, Pete. You're wasting your future—and it's too bright for me to stand by and watch that happen."

 

 _(“I know you’d do the right thing._ _”)_

 

Peter takes his foot off of Campbell's chest, dropping the gun onto the ground before silently walking past Tony out of the house.

 

He sits on the porch steps, watching the wind rustle the trees. It's so peaceful, so tranquil. Peter's anger has now faded, leaving a dark emptiness in its place.

 

Tony comes to sit on the step next to him, the Iron Man suit put away, and for a moment they just sit there, taking in the beauty of the nature in front of them.

 

"I thought you're retired from Iron Man, Mr. Stark," Peter says, glancing over at the man.

 

"I am, but I needed a quick ride and none of my cars sufficed, believe it or not."

 

Peter hums in understanding.

 

"I'm not angry with you, Pete," Tony says suddenly, and Peter knows he's not talking about the incident with Campbell just now.

 

"I know," Peter nods. "You're disappointed."

 

"I'm not, Peter," Tony sighs. "I need you to understand that."

 

When Peter doesn't say anything, Tony continues. "You were a sixteen-year-old kid who had already lost so much already. No one besides yourself blames you for wanting to give up and move on." Tony puts a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You're my kid, and I want you to be happy. That's all I care about, Pete."

 

Without giving any warning, Tony pulls Peter in for a hug, holding him tightly, and Peter eases into it, returning the hug with all his might. Suddenly, he feels like a kid again, huddling in his parent's arms while a thunderstorm rains down on their roof. Tony's hands touch the back of Peter's head protectively, and Peter buries his head into his father-figure's shoulder, hoping that this will never ever end.

 

"I'm happy now," Peter whispers, feeling his eyes getting wet.

 

"Me too, kid," Tony says. "Me too."

 

They sit there for a while before Tony speaks up again. "You mind giving me a lift home?"

 

"Yeah, sure. What about Campbell?"

 

"Friday called the FBI and the cops; they should be here any minute."

 

Peter nods, standing up and walking over to his Ford Focus. Tony follows him but stops dead in his tracks when he gets a good look at the car.

 

"Kid, what the hell is this piece of junk?" Tony asks, bewildered.

 

"It's my car. It gets me places," Peter answers defensively, getting into the front seat.

 

"No. This will absolutely not do," Tony declares, sitting down in the passenger seat. "When we get back, we're getting you a new car."

 

Peter rolls his eyes as he pulls onto the highway, but he hasn't felt this happy in a long time.

 

On the way home, they catch up. Peter tells Tony about his wife ("you know the girl I was friends with in high school? The one who you said scared you? Well, I married her"), and his kids ("Anna's almost two and Ben's four—he actually just had a birthday last week" "A birthday? Well, that's something we'll have to celebrate soon. Maybe a trip to Disney?" "Yeah, he'd love that, Mr. Stark" "Great. I'll have to make a call or two, but I'm pretty sure I can rent it out" "Rent what? A house?" "No, Disney").

 

Tony tells Peter about the newest things happening at Stark Industries, and in return, Peter tells him about Parker Industries ("Yes, I've heard about your business. I have to tell you, you're starting to give SI some serious competition. Great job, Pete, I'm so proud of you").

 

The drive flies by, and Peter is slightly disappointed when they pull up to Stark Mansion because he doesn’t want the moment to end, but Tony invites him and his family to come to have dinner tomorrow night.

 

"Night, kid," Tony says as he's starting to get out of the car. "I love you."

 

After so long, the words feel good.

 

"Love you too, Mr. Stark," Peter smiles before Tony gets out of the car and heads inside. Before Peter drives away, however, a shape darts out from inside the house and runs up to Peter's car, coming up to the driver's window. Peter rolls the window down to see Morgan's face.

 

"Peter, I just wanted to say thanks," Morgan says, glancing down at the ground before looking Peter straight in the eyes.

 

"You were the one who pushed me to make things right," Peter points out.

 

"Yeah, I know, but you didn't have to come back and you did. Maybe I was the one who pushed you, but you're the one who did it. So again: thank you. So much."

 

"Yeah, well," Peter gives her a smile that she can't help but mirror. "That's what older brothers are for. Right?"

 

Morgan beams at that.

 

"Go get some sleep, Morgan," Peter says gently. "I'll see you tomorrow."

 

She nods, giving him one last wave before disappearing into the house. Peter drives off, feeling weightless. He goes home to his family, falling into MJ's arms, thinking of nothing but the future. 

 

Tomorrow, when they go to dinner, Tony will take Peter into his lab, and Peter will notice that the black picture frame that holds the photo of Peter and Tony is now placed on a shelf where it's visible from anywhere in the workshop you look.

 

"It's a great picture," Tony will say, his tone fond.

 

"It sure is, Mr. Stark," Peter will agree.

 

And it is.

 

* * *

 

It took twelve years, but Peter's family is finally put back together.

 

It's a nice picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. That’s it! 
> 
> That being said, I’ve turned this into a series so that I can add onto this AU in the future. I have a few ideas, but if you have a prompt that you would really like to see me write, let me know because I’m open to ideas. If you’d like to be updated when I post more, subscribe to the series. 
> 
> I just want to say thanks to every single person who read, commented, gave kudos, etc.. Your positive feedback means the entire world to me. I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> Have a great rest of your day!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm leaving this complete, but there is a chance I'll do a second part. I hope you enjoyed :)


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